SLEEPING
by sarramaks
Summary: A little ditty about a tired Brennan and a visit from Booth late one saturday night that has now become a strange mystery involving lots of BB interaction. COMPLETE, epilogue now up!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: My first Bones fic - let me know what you think!

Disclaimer - obviously the characters are not mine, they all belong to Kathy Reichs and Fox TV, so don't sue!

**Sleeping**

Brennan took a step back and studied the skeleton lay out on the table in front of her. She had confirmed that it was a female, roughly two hundred years old, with probably death from a blow to the back of a head, likely to have been a sharp metallic implement. Other than that the woman had been in good health, and had died from unnatural causes when she was just thirty three. Brennan let out a sigh and stepped over to her computer, imputing details. It was eleven thirty on a Saturday night and no one else was in the lab, everyone having abandoned her and her skeleton to socialise and do what normal people did. Angela had gone on a 'hot date' with one of the men who worked at the Jeffersonian, hoping that her job would not be the downfall of another potential relationship as he already knew what she did. Zack and Hodgins had disappeared, up to something impossible that would inevitably end up in a heated discussion on Monday morning and disrupt them from what they were meant to be doing.

Brennan sighed, returning to the skeleton and scraping off a tiny fleck of dirt she had noticed, and then took the slide over to a nearby microscope. The body had been found under the cellar of a house that was being demolished, along with the remains of three other women, all killed at roughly the same time. Brennan wondered about the perp who had collected these bodies and what horrific experiences he had put them through before he led them to their deaths. The process of giving them back their identities would now begin, finding out who they were and hopefully giving them justice.

She glanced up at the doors into the lab, a noise distracting her momentarily from her task. Although she liked the lab – it felt remarkably more like home than home did – tonight she felt remarkably lonely. There had been no phone calls and no late night visitations; she even missed Booth's presence. She stopped for a second, taking a mouthful of water from the glass next to the microscope, and shaking her head to rid her mind of thoughts of the detective. He was probably out somewhere himself, doing whatever it was he did on a Saturday night when he wasn't arresting or hounding people. She pressed her eyes to the microscope, studying the form on the slide. She felt a yawn approach. Only to be expected, she knew, as she had been in the lab since the bodies had come in at three that morning. She debated going to her office and sleeping for an hour or so before continuing. There was no need to go home, nothing was there.

Her ears pricked up again, and she looked to the doors. No one was there. Definitely time to get some sleep. Hallucinations weren't good.

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Seeley Booth entered the lad expecting to see Bones pouring over one of the three skeletons that had been dropped off earlier. To his surprise she wasn't, in fact he couldn't see her anywhere. He figured that she would have to be about somewhere – the lab hadn't been locked up and it would have been severely out of character for Bones to leave when she had been presented with three juicy skeletons to look over. He took his gun out of his holster and began to pace through the lab. No one else was about – unsurprisingly given that it was a Saturday night. He had already seen Angela that evening; curled up to some man he was sure he had seen before. She had told him to go and drag Brennan over to Wong Foo's and leave the bodies till the morning. Her date hadn't even flinched at the word bodies, which led Booth to believe that the man was already acquainted with Angela's job and unbothered by it. He had thought it a good idea to fetch Brennan; a challenging idea, but it would do something to relieve his own boredom of the night.

Lately he had been thinking more about the forensic anthropologist he had worked with so much recently. Something about her intrigued him. She wasn't like any other woman he had met, and he had met more than a few in his day, she was different. He wasn't quite sure if different was in a good way or not, and he wanted to find out a little more about his feelings, curious as to what they actually were.

He called her quietly, wondering where she was. Treading softly he walked up the stairs to her office puzzled about what she was doing. He opened the door and gazed over to the sofa where her body lay curled up, red hair mussed over one of the cushions and eyes closed in sleep. Her clothes were crumpled and shoes had been discarded next to the seat. He sat down on the chair opposite, his eyes glued to the slight figure. He rolled his eyes, at what he wasn't quite sure. Whether it was because she should be at home, sleeping or relaxing, rather that still here at the lab, or whether it was because of the strange, inexplicable feeling that was opening up inside his chest he couldn't quite ascertain.

He didn't know how long he watched her for, feeling a little like a peeping tom, but he took a strange comfort in her nearness and the peaceful atmosphere of her office. Any stresses that he had felt over that past, tiring week now ebbed away with each breath. He felt his own eyes begin to close and his body relax; each tense muscle unwinding slowly, like a leaf gently dropping from a tree in autumn. His breathing began to mimic Bones'; gentle, smooth and rhythmic, and he drifted off into sleep.

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Brennan woke drowsily, dreams of beaches, and for some reason Booth, slipping away from her sleeping consciousness. She opened one eye, wondering how long she had been asleep for and feeling the urge to return to the skeleton she had been examining before taking her nap. She sat up and then saw the heap of a man snoozing on the chair in front of her. Booth. When did he come in and why would he be there on a Saturday night?

She stood up, pulling on shoes and made her way over to where she kept things for making coffee. She stifled a smile as she heard his sleep noises, breathing that gave away the fact that he was probably dreaming. She wondered what he dreamt about, and then wondered why she was wondering about Booth's dreams. Shaking her head she extracted two mug and began to fill them with coffee, taking one of over to the sleeping detective and putting it on the table next to the chair.

The smell of the coffee woke Booth and his eyes flickered open. For a second he perused why on earth Bones was bringing him coffee when he had just woken up and then sat erect, checking his whereabouts. Bones' office, both dressed, no explanations needed. Or maybe not.

"What are you doing here?" Bones queried him. "Have more bodies been found at Moreton Street?" She named the place where the three skeletons had been discovered.

Booth shook his head. "I saw Angela at Wong Foo's. She mentioned that you were working late so I thought I'd pop by, see what you were doing, persuade you to leave world of squint to try a Saturday night in the real world." He flashed her his cheekiest grin, knowing that however effective it was on most women, it barely registered on Bones.

Bones sighed, nursing her coffee. "Someone has to look into these deaths. I know it was probably around two hundred years since these women were murdered but they still deserve justice…"

"I wasn't saying that they didn't. I just thought you might like a break and a bite to eat. When is the last time that you ate anyway?" He said with some concern.

"Lunchtime. I'm really not hungry, thank you for your concern," she retorted, still staring at her coffee.

Booth stood up; beginning to understand what had drawn him to the lab at this hour to rescue a maiden from the jaws of over work, even though the maiden was actually the dragon in disguise. He sat himself next to her, noting the weariness, the darker shades around her eyes that signified tiredness. "You're not going to be able to give it your best if you are half asleep while you're looking at evidence. Call it a night, let me drive you home and get some proper rest. Then in the morning you'll be fresh again," he soothed.

Brennan looked up at him, a feint smile playing at her lips. "I may just sleep here. I have spare clothes and then at least I don't have to travel here in the morning. I'd like to get an early start."

Booth laughed. "Right, that answers it." He stood up, almost losing the contents of his cup. "I'm driving you home, then we're going to get a take-out and you can tell me everything you know about these three women, and you are going to fall asleep in your own bed and have some time away from this place!"

She shook her head, just about managing to put her cup down before he dragged her off the sofa and pulled her up. She found herself laughing, his touch was firm but gentle and she knew that his words were right. She needed to get away from here for a few hours and come back fresher. Then maybe there wouldn't be anymore strange noises disturbing her and she could give the women the care and attention they needed.

Booth felt some sort of victory as he saw her pull on her jacket and collect her handbag, leaving the laptop where it was. She was leaving with him. He had persuaded her to leave work at work and go home, with him. He wondered exactly what his intentions were – her could take her to Wong Foo's and have some food made up for them there, but he had already suggested that they go to hers. He decided to stick with the original suggestion, a strange well of excitement growing in his stomach as he watched Brennan lock up and start to leave with him to his car and then to her house, where they would be alone.

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_Please review and let me know what you think!_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Originally this was just going to be a one shot, but I never expected so many reviews. So thank you for your encouragement. I have no idea how long this will end up being as I'm currently trying to start my own book, but hey, its fun to write.**

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Chapter 2

Booth had the unusual feeling of being in control as he drove Bones home, via a Chinese take out that he knew could be relied on to not give out food poisoning along side free prawn crackers. Brennan had attempted to dig her heels in at the prospect of fast food, but he had insisted and for once had won without too much of an argument. The man in the Chinese Emperor– Booth knew him as Dave, but he had heard other people call him a multitude of different names – had gestured at Brennan as she sat in the passenger seat in the car outside the window, his eyes filled with humour.

"You have a new girl?" He had asked as he had wrapped up Booth's hot and sour soup.

Booth grinned at the idea and shook his head. "No, she's my partner – working partner."

"Then you are lucky to have such a pretty partner," Dave smiled back, continuing wrapping so quickly that Booth assumed he had a degree in origami.

"She's not bad," Booth said, handing over a twenty dollar bill. "When she's asleep," he murmured under his breath, telling Dave to keep the change.

"I hope this stuff's good," Brennan said, looking into the bag with some distaste when Booth got back to the car. "Have you any idea how many different types of bacteria have been found in fast food outlets?"

Booth rolled his eyes. "I eat from the Emperor at least once a week and I haven't been sick from it once."

Brennan gave him that disbelieving stare she had become a master of. "Once a week! That's not healthy!"

"I'm aware of that, Bones, but seeing as I don't have time to make myself an a la carte menu every day, I grab take out," he responded, grabbing hold of the steering wheel tightly. She could be so damned infuriating sometimes!

They reached Brennan's apartment quickly enough, and she unlocked the door tentatively, switching the burglar alarm off. Booth kept hold of the bag of food, waiting for her to let him in.

Her home was sparse with very few personal items decorating it. The sole photograph was one of the squints, placed in a very simple frame on the mantle piece. Aside from that it could have been anyone who lived there. He put the bag down on the table and Bones brought in plates and cutlery. She sat down on the floor near to the table, not bothering with the comfy sofa or chairs. Booth copied her actions, sitting beside her, as she began to unload the bag, passing a bowl of soup to him and keeping one for herself.

"This is actually good," she affirmed, taking a spoonful of the soup.

"I told you so," Booth retorted. For a few minutes they ate in silence, Booth kept glancing up at her, watching as she ate hungrily. "So," he broke the silence. "What's the score with the three skeletons then?"

Brennan looked up at him, her fingers holding one of the free prawn crackers. "So far I know that the two women I've examined had an impact to the skull caused a blunt, heavy object, probably made of metal. One of them was thirty three when she died, the other twenty seven. They both appear to have been healthy with no other signs of injury evident."

"So they were definitely murdered?" Booth asked. Brennan rolled her eyes.

"They were found buried under floor boards. If they had died of natural causes then I doubt somebody would have bothered to do that," she said sarcastically.

Booth shrugged his shoulders, unwrapping a box of spring rolls. "We'll have a look through the house tomorrow."

"I didn't think that this would be of FBI interest?" Brennan said, looking directly at him.

"It's looking like a murder – multiple murders. Even if it's like you say, two hundred years ago, it will still have some relevance and attract media interest," he explained.

Brennan nodded. "And you don't have many other pressing cases on at the moment," she said, raising her eyebrows at him.

"Well…"

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Brennan felt strange having someone in her home. It was a solitary place, and rarely did she invite anyone into it. She remembered that she hadn't actually invited him there tonight, but was actually too grateful for his company than to start an argument about it. Occasionally she did feel lonely, and this evening had been one of those times. The lab had seemed quieter than usual and the odd noises she had heard had rattled her, not that she would be admitting that to Booth. She looked at Booth and wondered what he would have been doing otherwise on a Saturday night.

"What's Tessa doing this evening?" She asked, when a break came in the conversation about the bodies.

"I really wouldn't know," Booth said, almost through gritted teeth.

"And why's that?" Brennan pushed.

"We broke up."

"You didn't say?" She tried to look upset for him and knew that she had failed dismally.

"No, not much to say, really. She didn't like my job and didn't like who I worked with," he said with a half smile.

"Meaning me?" Brennan had never been one to beat around the bush.

"Yes, meaning you," he replied. She saw a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

Brennan sighed and moved onto the sofa, stretching out her legs. She could see Booth watching her, his eyes taking in the length of her legs and where they led up to, and she felt the hint of chemistry that occasionally became apparent when they were together. Thankfully Angela wasn't there to point out the chemistry this time and Brennan could enjoy it in peace. Booth poured another glass of wine for them both and passed Brennan's to her.

"If I drink this I won't be able to drive," he told her, almost like a warning.

"That's fine," she said. "You can have the sofa. You'll be useful for a lift into work in the morning."

"What if one of your squints sees us coming in together. What might they assume, Tempe?" He asked her, a wicked grin on his face.

"They won't as we'll be in there early. I want to make a start on the third body and get to the house before lunch time," she cut him down, downing the glass of wine and then standing up "I'll get some blankets for you." She left the room, wondering what it would be like if he was to sleep in her bed. She did find him more than attractive, she had done since they'd first met, but she had shied away from doing anything about it, much to the wrath of Angela. And now he was single, in her house, at night. The thought crossed her mind to see what would happen if they enjoyed another bottle of wine, but as usual Tempe held back.

She brought in a pile of blankets and pillows, placing them on the sofa. Booth looked up at her through curious eyes. "You're not joining me for a night cap?" He asked, that smile playing at his lips gain.

She shook her head. "We're up early in the morning," she said firmly. "Sleep."

Booth grinned.

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He tucked himself under the blankets Brennan had given him, having stripped down to his underwear. Moving a hand behind him he felt for the switch to flick of the lamp that had been lighting the room, wondering what Brennan was doing now in her room. He scratched his head as he pictured what she _could _be doing, or more to the point, wearing. He was just a man after all.

She had played a passive part in his break up with Tessa, although he could argue that the break up had been long overdue. The relationship hadn't been going anywhere, they were never going to move in with each other, or get married, let alone have children. His eyes flickered to the door that led to the stairs where Brennan had just disappeared and he debated following her up, seeing what her reaction would be. He knew that they had chemistry. If he hadn't have noticed it due to being completely dumb then Angela would have pointed it out anyway. But Brennan wasn't like anyone else, and even if she was attracted to him it didn't mean that she would accept his advances. Besides, he would like to have a date with her before beginning a seduction routine.

He folded his arms across his chest and began to breathe deeply, full from the food and relaxed from the wine. It had been a good bottle; he was surprised that Brennan spent money on such things, but then again she often surprised him.

His dreams were filled with a tempestuous, red headed scientist that night, ordering him about in a way that made his toes curl with excitement. Sometimes his imagination was just a little too powerful.

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Brennan woke early, before the sun had even thought about rising. She was automatically aware that there was someone else inside her home and it took her a couple of moments to realise that it was just Booth. She wandered downstairs, not bothering to comb her hair or shower first, just needing coffee and something to eat; the food last night had been lovely, but now she was hungry again. She peered into her sitting room and looked in on Booth, still asleep on the sofa, his usually gelled hair now dried and mussed across the pillow. His naked torso was visible as the blankets had fallen down past his mid drift and for a moment Brennan studied the man. He wasn't an unpleasant being to be in her house.

She began to brew the coffee, sticking a couple of pieces of bread inside the toaster. Within two minutes the smell of coffee beginning to permeate the house. Booth had accompanied her in the kitchen, moving round her easily, sussing out where she kept various implements necessary for making breakfast. There was no awkwardness, and Brennan wondered if it would have been the same if Booth had shared her bed the night before.

"I'll need to stop off at home before we get to the lab," he told her. "I could do with a change of clothes and to sort this out," he ruffled hid hair, making himself appear extra boyish.

"I knew that gel would come into it some where," Brennan laughed, handing his a cup of coffee.

Booth scowled. "People will get the wrong idea if they see me like this. Especially if Angela happens to drop by."

"Which she may well do. I asked her to come in any have a go at giving the three women faces," Brennan's expression altered to one of pensiveness as her thoughts returned to her task at the lab.

Booth nodded. "Right then, let's get a move on."

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It was a brief stop at Booth's home on the way to the lab. Brennan noticed that his apartment now lacked the small female touches that Tessa had used to leave behind. Surprisingly, Brennan found that she quite liked this fact, somehow glad that Booth didn't have the intimidating lawyer in his life anymore.

"Were you upset that you and Tessa split?" She called to him while he was changing in his bedroom.

"It was going to happen at some point," he shouted back. "Why, you glad you don't have the competition any more?" He entered the room she stood in, still doing up the buttons of his shirt.

Brennan rolled her eyes, refusing to answer.

The drive to the Jeffersonian didn't take long in the early Sunday morning traffic, very few cars were on the roads, so there was little delay. Brennan felt a little strange as she entered the doors to the lab, recalling the noises she had heard the previous night. She immediately went to her desk, looking for the notes she had jotted down before she had gone for her snooze in the office. The notes weren't there. What was even more peculiar was the fact that the sample she had scraped off the bone had also gone. For a second she wondered if Zack had come in early and continued from where she had left off, nut she was reasonably sure that he wouldn't do that. Her eyes flicked toward Booth, worry filling them.

"Booth," she said nervously. "It looks as if some of the evidence has gone." He looked at her puzzled. "A couple of things that I left out aren't here any more."

"You sure you just can't remember where you put them – you were half asleep?"

She nodded, eyes downcast. "Someone's been in and tampered with evidence."

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Please review! 


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: In the previous chapter I said that the bodies that were found were two hundred years old. As the bare outlines of a plot (v. tentative but it is there somewhere) have begun to form I wish to change the 200 to 80.**

**Also please excuse the lame forensic details. I've been reading Patricia Cornwell et al since 1994, but the details were the bits I would skim read.**

**Thank you for all the reviews - especially Sonnet Lacewing, Feyrey, Lime 63 and Goldeneyedwildmage from the Tamora Pierce ff part! I will PM review replies, so those who reviewed anonymously - thank you!**

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Chapter 3

Booth noticed the look of worry etched across Brennan's face and had an almost uncontrollable urge to touch her porcelain white skin. He refrained from doing so as usual, his brain searching for a witty announcement that would distract him away from his feelings. "Was there anyone unusual hanging about yesterday or anyone particularly interested in the bodies?" The witty comment had by passed him.

Brennan's eyes looked hard with thought. "There were a few odd noises late last night, before I went up to the office. I thought it was just my imagination with being so tired. But no one can get in here without a pass…" She shook her head in disbelief and headed to the phone.

He watched as she dialled a number, probably Zack or Angela. In thirty minutes or so the rest of the squints would be here, and he would have to share Bones with the rest of them. He bit down on his lip slightly, wondering when he was going to get over his infatuation. It would have to be quick.

"Zack, Hodgins and Angela are on their way. I didn't say what had happened, just that they were needed here urgently," she had begun to make a list of what had gone missing. "Why take this? Its not a modern case, no one's going to go to prison for it. I don't understand."

Booth had begun to search round for anything that might give them an idea as to who had been in the lab. He was getting angsty himself now, wondering if someone had been in while him and Brennan had been asleep n her office. The thought was making his skin crawl. "There are going to be complications with it, Bones," he tried to pacify her, and himself. "The house where the bodies have been found is being demolished to make way for the building of a hotel. This is going to put all of that on hold. They won't be able to do any more construction work until the investigation has been completed, so expect some pressure over doing this quickly." Booth's cell phone began to buzz. He searched his pockets and answered it. Brennan stomped off to the place where the third skeleton had been kept.

He watched her as he carried out his phone conversation, beginning to overlook the body and making quiet notes into her dictaphone. From the look on her face there were obviously similarities between the third body and the two she had already examined. At one point she stopped, and focused on one part of the femur. He widened his eyes at her, as if to ask what she had found. She replied with a familiar expression that practically shouted at him to get off the phone. He ended his conversation rapidly, giving his attention back to her, although he had some important news that he knew was likely to grab her interest.

"Look here," she directed him to the spot on the femur she had been examining. "See those strange marks?"

He nodded. "They look like someone's had…" he squinted and looked a little closer.

"I'm not one hundred percent, but I think they're teeth marks," she said in her usual matter of fact manner. He raised one eyebrow.

"You're suggesting cannibalism?" He said, feeling the chicken in black bean sauce churning over in his stomach.

She nodded, going back to the unit where the other two bodies were and pulling one of them out. "I've noticed similar markings on some of the bones of the other two women, but not as defined as this."

"Before you begin what you're about to you may want to hear this," he said, resting his back against a filing cabinet. She looked up, semi interested. "The phone call I had was to say that they have discovered four more bodies. It's officially an FBI case. They've left the bodies in situ as they thought you'd want to examine them yourself."

She pulled of the latex gloves and dropped them into the waste. "Give me a minute to make sure everything's secure."

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Brennan called Zack and told him and Hodgins to meet them at the crime scene, and then left a message for Angela giving her instructions to begin on a facial reconstruction of the first woman. Booth drove infuriatingly slow as always and she felt the inexplicably urge to yank the steering wheel from his hands and take control. That had to be one reason why they would never have a successful relationship out side of work; they were both control freaks.

He pulled up outside the red tape that cornered off Moreton Street and flashed his badge with an authoritative grin. Brennan took out her own ID and showed it to the man on duty. He waved them through and Booth parked up facing the house.

Most of the street had already been demolished. The process was a slow one as there were occupied houses in the nearby vicinity so there had been no quick explosions. It had been two rows of terraced houses, built to serve a local factory that had long since been converted into modern offices. The houses had stood empty for at least twenty years, some of them for longer. Many had been boarded up with safety notices hanging outside, although that hadn't stopped a few of them from being broken into and used by squatters and vandals. Brennan had already noticed a couple of needles. She pointed them out to an officer who was standing close by, seemingly doing nothing and asked her to dispose of them safely.

Booth led her to the second to the end house, now roofless and a good part of the second storey removed. The door had been taken off, although there was now tape in its place. He held the tape up so that Brennan could step under it and enter the house. She felt the damp first, the years of the building being uninhabited. What would have been the sitting room was small with remainders of nineteen seventies design wallpaper peeling off the walls. They stepped further in toward the back room, where an old table still stood, abandoned by the last people to live there. It was here where the floor boards had begun to be pulled up and Brennan immediately saw the remains of what appeared to be four more bodies, buried what would have been only a couple of inches below the floorboards.

She bent down, onto her knees and opened the case she had brought, taking out various implements. The remains had been packed together closely. From what she could see immediately there were no signs of any clothing.

"Is this where the first three bodies were found?" She asked. Something wasn't quite sitting right.

Booth looked up at a scene of crime officer who stood nearby. The young man shook his head nervously. "No, Dr Brennan. The first bodies were found in the cellar."

"Has the entire cellar been excavated?" Brennan asked. The man shook his head again.

"What's biting you?" Booth asked, looking at her curiously.

"These bodies aren't as old as the ones that I've already examined. The earlier ones are from about one hundred years ago, roughly – I haven't had chance yet to run any conclusive tests on them. On first impression I'd say that these bodies have only been here thirty years." She studied a skull that was partially visible closely. "See, there's modern dental work." She gestured to a capped tooth.

Her eyes met his. For a split second that strange jolt of electricity crossed between them and the new discovery paled into insignificance. She brought herself round and forced herself to focus on the task in hand. "So we have two lots of bodies, looking like suspicious deaths. What is this place? Murder Street?" Booth said, almost to himself.

She heard two steps of familiar footsteps and looked up to see Zack and Hodgins enter the room, incredulous looks on their faces.

"This is awesome," she heard Zack say in an undertone and noticed Booth glare at him. "What do we have?" She began to explain to him what they had discovered. Within ten minutes both she, Zack and two of the scene of crime officers were removing the bodies from their undignified graves, while Booth had gone downstairs to the cellar to overlook what had gone on there and see if any more skeletons were about to be uncovered.

Each bone recovered was photographed in its place of finding and logged. Once removed a peg was placed in the ground with a corresponding number to show where the bones had been recovered from. Photographic evidence was continually captured, particularly as it now looked as if the crimes they were uncovering were more recent than originally thought and there would now be the chance of bringing the killer to justice.

By the time Brennan had returned to the lab, the remains of seven more bodies had been found with the possibility of more not erased. The four that had been reported to Booth that morning were almost complete although she doubted that they had been buried in the place that they had died. She had already noticed similar marks on some of the bones as to what she had see on the three skeletons that were already in the lab. This puzzled her. At least thirty years separated the deaths. Why were there similar markings on all the skeletons. She considered ritualistic murders. If the house had remained in the same family, or at least within people who could be connected to each other then there was the potential for some form of cult or sect to have used the house as a place to dispose of the remains of the sacrifices it may had made. She shook her head. Too much speculation! That was Booth's thing.

Once she had scrubbed up she began to examine the three bodies that had been recovered from the cellar. All were female, with their estimated ages at the time of death being between twenty six and thirty five years old. From the six skeletons that had been dug up from the cellar, five had been dead for approximately two eighty. The sixth Brennan estimated to have been buried less than twenty years ago, after the house was declared unsafe for living in. The four bodies that she and Zach had recovered all dated from being buried around twenty five to thirty five years ago. She had gotten Hodgins to begin tests for pollen and bugs to see if they could identify the whereabouts of the actual murder; Brennan was doubtful that it had been done inside the house.

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Booth returned to lab just as the sun was setting, armed with a selection of sandwiches and cans of pop and bottles of water. "Thought you squints might need feeding," he said, dropping the provisions down on one of the tables. There was a mad dash from Hodgins and Zack to grab the BLT, resulting in Angela stepping in and claiming it for herself.

"So," Booth began, looking woefully at the tuna salad he had been left with. "What news do you have for me?"

Brennan sighed. "All ten skeletons have the same marks on their upper right femur, indicative of a scraping with human teeth. Five of the women look to have been murdered approximately eighty years ago, they are the remains that we found in the cellar. The other five skeletons were buried much more recently, between two and four decades ago."

"All of the more recent bodies have traces of fusarium oxysporum on them," Hodgins said between mouthfuls. Booth looked blank. "It's a disease that onions get. But wherever these bodies have been it seems to have been common. Their bones were practically covered in it."

"How's Angela doing?" Booth looked to where Angela was sat, typing information into a computer.

"She's working on the faces of the women who were killed more recently. We've also been trying to collect as much information as possible on each of the women. Hopefully we'll be able to cross reference what we have with missing person reports which may help us to identify the victims," Brennan answered. "We should know more by the end of the night."

Booth shook his head at the woman in front of him. "You and I have a few more jobs to do," he told her. "I've got the address of Dean Lammork, who was the last known resident of number 34, and we need to pay him a little visit."

"Well, where does he live?" Brennan asked, a little thrown by being told what to do.

"Craigon Avenue in Bridgiton," he watched her face react.

"That's a fair way, it's going to take at least two hours to get there," she protested.

"And we'll probably have to stay overnight, so you'll need that overnight bag you keep here," he kept his voice low and calm.

"But there's a lot I need to be getting on with here."

He noticed Angela step forward, her eyes twinkling at both Booth and Brennan. "And we will cope. You have your cell, so we can contact you. Go, be gone!" She waved her hand dramatically.

Booth looked at Brennan. It was going to be another interesting night together.

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Please review, pretty, pretty please! 


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed - you're very encouraging!**

Chapter 4

Bones lost the argument about who was going to drive. She tried every time, but it was a war she wasn't going to win. Booth knew that the moment she took hold of the wheel he would have to spend the next three days going through paperwork to stop her from losing her licence through the mass of speeding tickets she would have accrued. He ignored the comments that fell from her lips, changing them inside his head to compliments instead, and merely replying with thank yous. It was going to be a long ride.

The scenery had changed from the city to suburban streets, littered with green trees and flower beds. Brennan had quietened down, her attention focusing on the passing panorama and Booth enjoyed managing to grab sneaky glances at her. He had liked waking in the same building as her, and her being the first thing he saw, he had liked the way her hair had been unkempt and ruffled and she had made no effort to appear anything but natural. Tessa and the other women he had dated had practically set their alarm clocks to be able to put make up on before he had seen them, something he hadn't found the slightest bit attractive. Brennan wasn't like that, she didn't care what people thought of how she looked, most of the time.

They passed the drive with general chat, steering the subjects away from the case. Booth knew by now that there was no point in theorising about it, Brennan would only deal in facts. He filled her in with what he knew so far about Lammork, which to be honest, wasn't much at the moment, just that he was in his fifties, unmarried, with no children or dependants and had left number thirty four thirty three years ago when the house was condemned. It put him as a prime candidate for what had gone on in there, although as other people had also been living in the place at the time Booth knew that they couldn't just go storming into his current address accusing him of murder.

"So who's Angela's new friend?" He asked Brennan, hoping to lighten the conversation.

"He's a guy who works at the Jeffersonian in the legal department. She's only been on a couple of dates with him so far," Brennan answered without really thinking about it.

"You think it has more of a chance of it working with him already knowing what she does?" He kept his eyes on the road.

Brennan was silent. He wasn't sure whether she was thinking about his question or had switched over to something else.

"All of the bodies we recovered had a small bones missing," obviously she had been thinking about something else. "Could it be possible that they are being collected for some purpose?"

"Was it the same bone in each case?" He asked, noticing a diversion ahead.

"No, either one of the metatarsals or phalanges, or in one case it was the malleus and incus," she looked to him. Out of the corner of his eye he took the sight of her in and wondered what it would be like if they could ever have a conversation that wasn't shadowed by whatever case they were working on.

"Was this the same with the older bodies?" He queried.

"Yes. They all had a small bone missing and all seemed to have been murdered by the same weapon. But it couldn't possibly be the same person. The murders are eighty years apart," she summed up.

"Hopefully our little to trip to visit one of the last residents of number thirty four should prove enlightening," he turned and smiled at Brennan briefly. "So what would you have been doing today if these bodies hadn't have turned up?"

"Thereis acollection of bones have been sent over to me from the British Museum that they suspect belonged to a 'bog man' found in the north of England. I'm carrying out some investigations on them and will hopefully discover some facts about his life," she replied dryly.

"So when would you have had fun?" Booth asked with amusement ringing in his voice.

"I enjoy my work and consider it to be fun," she replied, not realising he was bating her.

He shook his head. "What? I'm not allowed to love my job? It's ridiculous that society today does…" He decided to interrupt rapidly having heard this line before.

"I did not say that it was wrong to enjoy work, although considering what you actually do some people would argue that, just that you should be doing other things, like going to the movies, eating out, going on dates," he glanced at her face for her expression.

"I do do those things," she responded. "Just not recently."

"When's the last time you had a date?"

She shrugged. "A while ago."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, 'why'?" She retorted.

"Why was it a while ago? You're an attractive, intelligent woman, from what I've seen men find you desirable – why's it been so long since you've had a date?" His voice became animated as he asked the question.

"I've been busy," she answered.

"What with?"

"Work."

"My point exactly," he slammed his hand down on the steering wheel just enough to hurt.

"When was the last time you had a date?" She spun toward him, her eyes flaring.

"That doesn't count. I'm getting over a break up," he gritted his teeth. He knew why he hadn't been on a date since splitting with Tessa, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the red head sat next to him. Nothing.

"Oh, come on Booth, you're an attractive man, you have women dropping like flies around you. I'm sure that Ange would be happy to set you up with one of her friends," she raised her eyebrows.

Booth shook his head.

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Dean Lammock lived in a small, white painted house with a tidily kept garden, just about visible in the soft light of the full moon that hung over head in the sky. Brennan automatically began to look round, eyes everywhere, looking for any indications that might prove that Mr Lammock had been up to something unusual. She followed Booth up to the front door and watched as he banged heavily on it. It was now almost nine thirty and it felt a little too late in this quiet neighbourhood to be banging on people's doors wanting to interrogate them about bodies that had been found in a place where they used to live. However, Brennan wasn't particularly bothered about the polite rules of society. She was hungry, a little cold and half annoyed at being taken away from her lab, and she knew that she would have the British Museum on the phone any day now demanding to know how far she had progressed with the bog man bones.

A small figure of a man opened to door and looked suspiciously at them. Booth automatically introduced himself and flashed his badge at the person who Brennan assumed was Mr Lammock, and then introduced her. She didn't bother smiling at him, he hadn't done anything to make her smile so why should she?

"Are you Dean Lammock?" Booth asked as the man let them enter the house.

He shook his head. "I'm Davey Hennings, Dean's cousin. Dean died last year and left this place to me, which was good as if he hadn't I wouldn't have had a place to live."

"I'm sorry for your loss, Mr Hennings," Booth replied pleasantly.

"Oh, don't be! He was a waste of space, even when he was a boy. Couldn't even die properly. Went outside one morning to get the milk and never came back. Found his body by the river. He'd just dropped dead," Hennings took a bottle of dark rum from a shelf and a small glass, pouring the drink until it filled the container.

"We were wanting to ask your cousin some questions…" Booth began.

"Well, you can't now, he's dead, isn't he." The man chuckled, showing a lack of teeth at the front of his mouth.

"Maybe you could help us instead," Brennan interjected, a little annoyed at Hennings. Her patience was already wearing thin.

"What's a pretty young thing like you doing coming asking questions with a man from the feebs? You should be at home in bed," she felt her skin crawl as she gathered what picture Hennings now had in his mind.

"Actually Dr Brennan is a forensic anthropologist who assists the FBI in certain cases. We are currently looking into a number of bodies that have recovered from number thirty four Moreton Street, where I believe your cousin used to live," she heard the note of annoyance in Booth's tone and realised that he had noted the image that Hennings had conjured up in his brain.

Hennings laughed, refilling his glass. "Never went there. Dean lived there with his great uncle, a man called William McKenzie. He weren't related to me and I had nothing to do with him. He was Dean's mom's uncle. Dean's mom left him when he was six and Uncle Will took him in. There were always a lot of other people in that house, it were a bit odd with people coming and going. For a couple of years Dean and Will lived somewhere else, I think it were in Bicester, and then went back to Moreton Street after."

"How long ago did they live in Bicester?" Booth asked.

"It would have been about forty years ago. Dean would have been fifteen or sixteen. They stayed there for two years and then went back. Uncle Will died just after that." Hennings downed the contents of his glass and stood up. "It's unreasonable folk like you showing up at time like this. Leave me be! If you come back tomorrow I might have more to tell you!" He grabbed a walking stick from next to his chair and began to wave it at them. Brennan could see Booth was trying not to laugh.

They left, ascertaining that they would be returning in the morning. Hennings had leaned into Booth and muttered something in his ear. Brennan had doubted that she actually wanted to know what it was.

"I think we passed a motel a few miles back down the road," Booth said as he unlocked his car. "I know it's not up to your usual standards, but I don't think we have much choice. This place is like the back of beyond!"

Brennan nodded. "I could do with something to eat."

"That might just be what we can get from a seven-eleven. I doubt there's a take out or restaurant still open," Booth answered, putting his foot down.

It was a matter of minutes before they had arrived at the rather dingy looking motel. Grabbing her bag from the boot Brennan led the way into the place, noticing the rather run down furniture and the clock that had stopped ticking behind the table that posed as reception. A young girl with very little make up on stood behind the table, smiling warmly at them as they approached.

"You require a room?" She said brightly, contrasting with the darkness of the under lit room.

"Two, actually," Brennan replied.

"What, we're not going to share?" She heard Booth breathe into her ear. The thought had crossed her mind. She hadn't had a date in ages, or contact with any man other than in a professional capacity. However, sharing a room, or anything else, with Booth would surely just open a can of worms.

The girl handed over two sets of keys and smiled shyly at them. "I'm sorry if you wanted more. We do hope to modernise the place soon," she told them before offering directions to their rooms.

Their rooms were next to each other and both offered furniture that looked as if it needed taking to the nearest tip. They were, however, clean, looking as if someone had tried to make up for the lack of modernity by scrubbing for all they were worth.

Booth popped his head into her room. "I see you're about as well off as I am. I'm just going to get a quick shower then how about we take a drive and find somewhere that serves food?"

Brennan nodded. "I need a shower as well. After spending half an hour in that house I feel like I'll never be clean again." She waited for him to leave and stripped, switching the shower on and waiting for it to warm up. Five minutes later and the water was still like it had just run out of the nearest reservoir. She turned it off in disgust, throwing a towel around her and grabbing clean clothes. Surely Booth would have finished showering by now and she could jump in his shower.

She banged on his door, hoping that no one would pass and wonder what was going on. After banging again, slightly harder this time, the door opened and Booth stood there, an off white towel tied round his waist and drops of water falling from his hair down his torso.

"Bones?" He said, scratching his head.

"My shower's running cold, how's yours?" She asked, wondering why he was making her stand outside his room. "Can I come in?"

He nodded and let her enter. "My shower's warm – it's not powerful but it does the job. Feel free," he gestured to the small room that passed as a bathroom. Brennan wondered why he hadn't cracked any jokes yet about her turning up with just a towel round her, and was puzzled about his shyness. He had now wandered to the far end of the room and had pulled a t-shirt on over his chest, not bothering to complete drying himself. She shrugged and went into the bathroom, her head filled with images of Booth's naked torso.

The shower was as he said; warm but with as much power as an almost dried up waterfall. She managed to wash herself down, enjoying the feeling of being clean and quickly rinsed her hair. She dried herself speedily, wrapping a towel around her head to sponge off the water from her hair, and pulled on the jeans and a smart but casual top she had brought from her room.

Booth was sat on the slim single bed, fully dressed much to Brennan's half disappointment. He was reading a book by an author she didn't recognise.

"Good read?" She asked as he became aware of her presence.

"Not bad," she glanced at the cover, _The Beach by Alex Garland. _"It was made into a film a few years ago."

"I didn't see it," she informed him.

"I didn't think you would have. It's easy reading," he flashed his pearly white teeth at her. "Let's go find somewhere to eat."

Brennan found him oddly awkward as they drove out of the small town on their mission to find somewhere to eat. He said very little and seemed preoccupied with something he didn't want to discuss. She wondered if he had found her turning up at his door wearing a towel unnerving but couldn't see why. If anything she would have expected him to have made more jokes about it, not have this strange silence.

"You okay, Booth?" She asked as they spotted lights on a building in the distance.

"I'm fine," he replied. "This looks promising," he added as they came to what looked like a diner. He pulled up in what was meant for the car park.

------------------------

Brennan had thrown him by coming to his room with just a towel wrapped round her. He was a red blooded male, of course it was going to make his imagination wander. He wondered what she thought of his reaction, and whether she had noticed his quietness.

Her hair was still damp from the shower and her cheeks a little flushed from the heat. She was bare faced and dressed simply, but for him that made her stand out all the more. They were escorted to a window table in the far corner of the diner and issued with menus. The waitress, a scrawny teenager with the name tag 'Brenda' pinned to her chest took their orders for drinks and left them to it. Obviously they were not going to be overwhelmed with spectacular service this evening.

"What do you think the old man knows?" Brennan asked him as he studied the menu.

"More than he's letting on. He's certainly not the most normal of guys," He replied, not averting his eyes from the list of steak variations.

"We've got very little in the way of evidence. There's no point in checking the floorboards for finger prints, and there's no other effects there to give us a clue who's been inside the building. I am certain that the women were killed elsewhere and then transported back to the house once their bodies had decomposed," she explained. "Hodgins' findings support that and I would think that you ought to be looking for places associated with McKenzie and Lammock that might contain fusarium oxysporum, such as an allotment."

Booth looked up at her. "I already have someone looking into that," he snapped back.

"What is the matter with you?" She demanded. Booth felt guilty for his tone. "I'm sorry that my shower wasn't working so I came to you and I apologise if I offended you by turning up in a towel, but there's no need to be so off hand with me!"

Booth sighed and lent back slightly in his chair. He'd blown it now. "I wasn't offended by you turning up in a towel, Bones; you're hardly an unpleasant sight. You just caught me a little off guard."

"What do you mean, off-guard?" She demanded.

"I hadn't prepared myself for you turning up like that and the effect it might have on me," he explained truthfully. She might be an expert scientist but when it came to everyday feelings she only fell a little short of being dense.

To his surprise she blushed and returned her eyes to the menu. He wondered where these things might eventually end up. He suspected that the attraction he had for her wasn't one sided, Angela had already made enough blatant comments to make that clear, but it was obvious that neither of them knew quite how to deal with it. They were partners, good ones, who got results, so it was a little worrying to be having these feelings when they could do so much damage to the team that they had built.

"How did you like me without my shirt?" He plucked up the courage to ask as Brenda brought over their drinks.

Brennan looked up at him, that smile playing on her lips. "You have very well defined pectorals." He grinned at her impersonal response. At least she had noticed. He caught her eyes and found that he couldn't look away. The diner was not having a busy night, but any noise that was there fell away. The look began to feel a little awkward until he realised that they were both smiling, almost laughing, at each other. His eyes returned to the pepper shaker he had been playing with.

"You going to use my shower again in the morning?" He asked her, his heartbeat racing at the idea.

"If it's not going to distract you too much," she said. He wondered if she was trying to be flirty.

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If you've read it, please review it and let me know what you think and if you want me to continue. 


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Thank you for all the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 5

Brennan knocked on Booth's door early in the morning, wanting to shower with hot water rather than the weak, tepid stream that was dripping from the ancient contraption that hung over her own bath. This time she went to him fully dressed, not thinking it a good idea to just wear a towel after the response the previous night, taking her bathing things with her. She knocked lightly on his door, knowing he was awake as she had heard him phone someone earlier that morning, letting them know what their plans were for the day before they returned to the lab.

He answered, fully dressed much to her disappointment, and let her in.

"Water's piping hot," he told her as she went straight to the bathroom. "Shall I make you a coffee?" He gestured toward the coffee making facilities in the corner of the room, next to the old black and white TV.

"That would be great, thanks!" She called out from the bathroom, tuning the shower on full. As she washed herself her thoughts travelled to the previous night and after they had eaten. The conversation had steered away from work and settled on themselves. Booth had told her more about his son than she'd known before and what his relationship had been like with his son's mother. She listened, seeing a side to the man that she'd only glimpsed of before. In many ways she knew he was her opposite; running on hunches and feelings, while she was scientific and analytical in her approach of, well, everything.

"Would you want more children?" She'd asked tentatively.

He'd nodded, not making eye contact. "I like kids," he'd replied. "Are you still determined not to have any?"

She'd looked at him, unsure of what to say, unsure of what she felt and what the answer to that question actually was. She liked children, although she knew she was uncomfortable around them. To have someone depend on her like she had depended on her parents was a big thing, and then if something happened to her – where would they be after? Then he'd smiled and she felt something melt inside of her. _For crying out loud, Brennan! _She'd thought. _You've never even been on a date with him and now you're thinking what it would be like…_

"I don't know, Booth," she'd answered eventually. His eyes had opened wider at her answer.

"I thought it was a resolute no," he'd said.

Brennan shrugged. "Whoever I'm with might have some say in it I suppose. I just worry that any children that I may have might end up in the same predicament as I did," she'd confessed.

Booth took the fingers from her left hand from across the table and wrapped them in his. She felt the usual jolt of electricity as they made contact, but this time did not pull away. "No one can see into the future, Tempe, but that doesn't mean that anything bad is going to happen to you, or to whoever the father would be. You can't let yourself think like that, and I surprised you do. You have no basis to."

She had looked down at his hand, tightly holding her own and understood the logicality of his words. Unsure of what to say, she maintained her silence.

"So, is Angela's new boyfriend going to be 'the one'?" After half a minute of silence he had changed the subject.

Brennan shrugged, aware that his hand hadn't left hers. "He's only just started at the Jeffersonian so I don't know that much about him. He seems okay though. He wasn't bothered by Ange's job, which is one thing."

"Have any men ever stopped being interested in you because of your career?" He had asked, his eyes meeting hers for a split second before glancing away.

"I don't know. Most of the men I've dated were acquaintances from work or while I was a student so they already knew what it was I did," she told him.

"Why aren't you with anyone now?" His tone had been soft and gentle. She hadn't queried why he was asking, she knew.

"I don't have time. All of my attention is given to work," she had explained.

"Maybe if you met the right person you would have the time," he had smiled and then Brenda had come with their food and the conversation had deferred back to the case, recapping what they knew and his hand had left hers, maybe a little reluctantly.

She turned off the shower, wrapping a rather threadbare towel around her and stepping out of the bath, quickly getting dry and dressed. She sprayed a little perfume onto her clothes, just enough so that it would be noticed and not overwhelming. When she was working in the lab perfume was a no go, interfering too much with people's sense of smell and there ability to detect certain things that could be used as clues or give information.

She checked she hadn't left anything important in the bathroom before leaving and then sat down on the bed next to Booth who had made coffee.

"It's only instant," he excused. "But it's in date." She smiled, taking the cup he offered, fingers grazing once again. She found herself smiling shyly.

"I should really give Angela a call at the lab. I'm surprised that I haven't heard from them," she said thoughtfully, realising that she had left her cell in her own room.

"They'll be fine. You left very precise instructions," he reassured. Brennan nodded. There was no way that Zack or Hodgins could have made a mistake with the instructions she had left.

They ate at a small greasy spoon café that they found just next to the motel. The girl who had served the in the motel the night before waited on them again, looking tired and a little rocky on her feet.

She inquired as to how their night had been and Brennan made a point of telling her that the shower had not been working properly.

"I'm really sorry," the girl had apologised sincerely. "There are a few showers that need renewing. I'll see if I can throw in free coffees for you as compensation." She had then scuttled away into the kitchens.

"Shouldn't she be in school?" Brennan looked to where the girl was heading.

"I'd guess so. She doesn't look old enough to have left," Booth responded. "You needn't have mentioned the shower, Bones, it's not like you were staying somewhere that charged five star prices."

"But it didn't work, Booth. And it was an inconvenience. If I hadn't have been able to use your shower then what would I have done?" She said, her face serious.

"You'd have complained. But it was fine. And hey, you got to see me without a shirt!" He said brightly.

"Even more of a reason to complain," she muttered. Booth laughed, pretty sure that she didn't mean it.

The girl returned with coffees for them and freshly done toast.

"Do you know of a Davey Hennings who lives round here?" Booth asked her, giving her his best smile.

She smiled back, Brennan noticing her hand automatically going to play with her hair in a flirtatious gesture. She wondered if that was how she reacted when Booth gave her that same smile.

"I think everyone knows Davey," she replied with a slight drawl. "He likes to look at girls as they walk passed his house on the way home from school so we used to go through the trees instead. Then he started to follow us there. His brother was just the same."

"He had a brother?" Booth said, at his most interested.

"Yeah, Dean. He died a few years ago. He was even weirder. Used to grow vegetables and get dad to buy them but he'd charge too much so he and dad had a bust up," she explained.

"I didn't think Davey had a brother," Booth spoke before Brennan could get a word in.

"Oh, yeah. He and Dean even looked alike. Sometimes when they both had beards you couldn't tell them apart. My dad jokes about it being Davey that died and Dean just said it was him to try to cover for something wicked he did in the past," she smiled. "Can I get you any thing else? Your full breakfasts will be here in a minute."

Booth shook his head and then turned to face Brennan, eyebrows raised with surprised. "I may have a list of jobs to see to when I get back to the office," he said. "I think someone had better dig up some of Davey Henning's family tree."

"Or possibly even dig up Dean," Brennan muttered. "Why do you never let me ask the questions?"

"Because you'd end up annoying the person you were asking."

-------------------

They went immediately back to Davey Hennings' house and Booth noticed his eyes light up when he saw Bones.

"Couldn't resist, could you. See, an older man, that's what girls want. A bit of experience to show them how it's done," Hennings eyed Bones in a way that Booth would have described as indecent.

"We've heard all about you watching the girls walk home after school. And apparently your _brother_ used to join you too," Booth stated, studying the reaction on Hennings' face.

"What brother? I told you yesterday I had no brother live here! That was my cousin. Some people thought it were my brother, we did look a bit alike, but he were my cousin!" The man began to become agitated and Booth wondered just how far he could be pushed.

"Tell me about Moreton Street," Booth encouraged, wondering if the emotional outburst would loosen any of the man's memories.

"I went there a couple of times. Each time Uncle Will were there with Dean. I didn't like going there. Uncle Will liked ladies; he always had a load there. Now I know he used to pay them to be there, but when I was little I didn't know that. He used to tell me about each of them and make me introduce myself to them properly," Davey looked a little disgusted by the memory.

"Did your uncle never marry?" Booth asked, seating himself down in a chair that had obviously seen better days.

Davey shook his head. "He always had some woman about, paid probably. Not that I see anything wrong with that," he added, looking at Brennan. Booth wished he could thump him for looking at her like that.

"Did you ever notice anything suspicious when you were there?" Booth felt he was losing patience. The man was unlikely to tell him anything in a short amount of time. It was probably worth having him taken in and interviewed formally.

"There were a lot of comings and goings. Once when I were there, there must have been six or seven people living there. One man who lived there all the time was Roger Charlesworth. He were a bit younger than my uncle, and they were very matey, like," he answered. Booth thought the name rang a bell. He heard Brennan's phone ring and she left the house to answer it.

"Any idea where this Roger Charlesworth went to when the house was condemned?" Booth asked, wondering what Brennan's call was about.

Davey shrugged. "Didn't hear from him again, so he could be anywhere," he answered, picking up a remote control that was filled with yellow bits between the numbers. He began to search for sport on the crackling television.

"Did he have anything to do with Dean afterwards?" Booth pressed, feeling that he had gotten as much out of the man as he was going to.

"I wouldn't know. Dean would disappear sometimes for a couple of weeks. He'd never say anything about where he was going or who with or when he'd be back. Not that I worried, mind. It suited me just fine when he turned up dead," Booth began to wonder about the vents that lay behind Dean's death and whether they were entirely natural.

"Are you thinking of going anywhere in the next few days, Mr Hennings?" He asked, standing up.

"I might be thinking of all the places I could go to with your lovely assistant, but I certainly won't be leaving my chair," he said with a semi toothless grin that made Booth feel revolted.

"I would imagine that someone will be over let to give you a ride down to he nearest station where we can do a formal interview," Booth said, as pleasantly as he could.

Davey remained silent. Booth turned to leave the room, anxious to escape its claustrophobic atmosphere. "Thank you for your time, Mr Hennings," he added, opening the front door and taking a deep breath of clean air.

Brennan was still on her cell, stood next to the car. He took in her figure, and automatically felt distracted from the reason they were supposed to be there. Then he remembered Davey Hennings' comments about her and the looks he had given her, and was overwhelmed with a possessive feeling he was only just getting used to. He knew he was going to have to make a move on her soon. If she actually began seeing another man he wasn't quite sure how well he'd handle it internally. Externally he knew he'd be fine. He'd always been good at hiding his emotions, but this time he didn't think he wanted to.

"Everything okay?" He asked her when she'd finished her call.

She nodded, that look on her face when she was thinking something through. He itched to move the piece of hair that had fallen over her eyes and wondered how she'd respond if he did.

"I had a call from Zack," she said, her eyes focusing on him. "I won't explain it in detail, but from the evidence they've gathered from the bones it's a certainty that the bodies decomposed in somewhere like a potting shed or allotment. There were chemicals, spores and pollen on them that can't place them anywhere else."

"Would there be any chance of knowing how quickly they decomposed?" Booth asked her, his mind working away at filling in pieces of a jigsaw.

Booth shook her head. "None."

"Could they have possibly been put in a greenhouse?"

She shrugged. "It would be a possibility. The temperature would have speeded up the decomposition. Why?"

"I happened to notice that there was a greenhouse in Mr Hennings' back garden that was concealed by a lot of undergrowth. That may be a good place to start searching for evidence," Booth said, wincing at the thought of having to take Brennan in there again.

"What's the problem?" She said, noticing his reaction.

"I don't like the way he looks at you," he confessed. "It divides my loyalties."

"What does that mean?" She looked at him confused.

"I need you there to help suss this out. But I don't want you there as I don't think you should have to tolerate men like him," he explained, knowing that she would probably get all annoyed with him for wanting to protect her.

"I can handle myself, Booth," she glared. Yep, he was right. "I've dealt with men like him before. You seem to think I'm some weak, pathetic female sometimes, well you should know by now that I'm not!"

"I don't think that. I know that you're more than capable of looking after yourself, but sometimes I want to look after you!" He spat back, wondering if he'd said too much.

She fell silent, not looking at him.

"Do you think that Hennings had something to do with it?" She asked, changing the subject.

"Probably. If not in an active role, then certainly as an observer. We need to find out who these women were. That will give us an idea for motive," he was happy to discontinue any conversation about his motivations for protection.

"What theories do you have?" He was surprised at her question. Generally she just stuck to facts.

"That maybe Uncle Will and his nephew were in the business of a little murder. A trade that Will taught his nephew in," he said, pulling his face in a nonchalant manner.

"It would explain the similarity in murders with them being so many years apart. What I'm surprised about is that there is a gap between the timing of them. We have five that were from between ninety and seventy five years ago, then a gap of forty years. If Uncle Will was fifteen when he began to kill these women, he would still be too old to have had anything to do with the rest," Brennan responded thoughtfully.

"If there is any credence behind what Hennings said then his friend Roger Charlesworth may have also had something to do with it all. We need to find if he is still alive," Booth unlocked the car and jumped in. Bones mirrored his actions.

He began the drive back to the lab, making a call to one of his colleagues to have Davey Hennings interviewed at the station. His head tricked over the information they had, playing out all the possibilities.

"Have we had news about any more bodies being found at Moreton Street?" Bones interrupted his thoughts.

Booth shook his head. "That doesn't mean there won't be though," he answered. "It's becoming a house of horror. How did anyone not notice that these girls had gone missing?"

"Maybe they weren't the types of girls to be missed – hitchhikers, tourists, prostitutes. And they weren't murdered at the same time. From what I've seen so far there's at least two years between each body," Brennan looked at him with those eyes that made him melt. When this case was over, and hopefully they'd have at least a little time before the next one rolled in, he'd make a move. Definitely.

"That's one idea. I need a search warrant for that house and greenhouse, and the garden," he said, half to himself.

"What evidence do you have to justify a search warrant? There was no physical evidence from what we've seen, or from what we've found from the remains to say that ant crime was committed at Hennings'," she said, giving him that look again. He fought the urge to pull over and kiss her.

"We know that the bodies were left to decompose in somewhere such as the greenhouse in Hennings' garden. I'm going to find out for how long that house has been in Will's family. If it had been occupied by them for as long as the house on Moreton Street I think I'll have enough suspicion to get a warrant," he explained. It was tentative he knew, but he had a judge who owed him a favour which would also help and one hell of a hunch about this whole thing.

Brennan's cell began to ring. She answered it hurriedly. He heard her side of the conversation which consisted of short sentences such as "How many?" "How old?" and "Where abouts?" That gave him enough of a clue to suss out what had happened.

"They've recovered three more bodies," she announced as she hung up. "They used some geo-physics technique to work out where more lay. One was under the floorboards in the front room, one partial skeleton was halfway up the chimney and the third was under the cupboards in the kitchen. From what Zack has seen, all three were murdered in the time frame between the others, but very spaced out."

Booth nodded. "Dean was obviously not as confident once his uncle wasn't around." It was going to be another long day.

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	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you to all those people who have reviewed! You made my day!**

**Disclaimer: I've not done one for a few chapters so here's one now - Bones and the characters are not my property and I will not be making any monet from them. They belong to Kathy Reichs, Fox and various other institutions that I have no idea about!**

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Chapter 6

"I've managed to reconstruct the faces oftwo of the later victims, and we have pulled up the missing persons lists for the time that they disappeared," Angela said as soon as she saw them enter the lab. "So did you two have a nice night together? I hope he took you somewhere good to eat."

Bones rolled her eyes and ignored Angela's latter comment. "Have we managed to give them an identity?" She asked.

Angela proceeded to go over everything that they had uncovered about two of the more recent victims, and Brennan checked it over, pleased with her colleague's work.

"We have a positive identity on Michele Moorwood and Deena Offerton," she glanced up at the tall FBI agent beside her. "Both are down here as being known prostitutes. Michele was from thirty miles south of here and Deena was known in Bridgiton as a small time hooker. She was reported missing by her sister," Brennan concluded.

"Was it looked into by the sheriff there?" Booth asked.

Angela shook her head. "Deena had a history of mental illness and depression. They figured she just took off after a row about what she was doing."

"You've been pretty thorough," Booth narrowed his eyes at the pretty woman before him, wondering how she had managed to get this information.

"I may have taken a few liberties," she confessed. "So how many rooms did you have where you stayed last night?" Neither replied.

Brennan discovered that her team had worked hard in her absence and pieced together parts of the jigsaw so that it was now beginning to make sense. She had watched with some sadness as Booth had returned to his office, having a list of things to go through involving warrants, interviews and tracing Roger Charlesworth. Theories had flown and she had stayed completely with the facts as usual, refusing to become carried away in Booth's imagining of details. Angela had been happy to speculate, and confirmed Booth's 'gut' feeling, much to Brennan's disgust.

"You're supposed to be employed as someone who is scientific! You can't just go speculating on ideas that may turn out to hamper the investigation!" Brennan had called as she looked over one of the new bodies that had just been brought in.

"I keep telling you, sweetie, that I am an artist. And artists have imaginations. Beside I think Booth is right and Uncle Will maybe trained his nephew in his ways. Uncle Will dies and then after a short while Dean carries on the family tradition. What gets me though is why Dean wouldn't be revolted by what his uncle was doing," Angela screwed up her nose.

"It may not have been 'Uncle Will'," Brennan bit back.

"But what about the idea of Dean being revolted. I haven't had this idea before of a killer being trained by a family member, although in murdering pairs there is always one who is more dominant. In England, for example, they had Myra Hindley and Ian Brady who were working together and Rose and Fred West. The men were the dominant ones in the partnerships, although the women were hardly bullied into it," Booth said, sitting down on a chair and swinging round on it like a child who had not yet gotten over the novelty of it.

"I would assume that if it is Uncle Will who is the main perpetrator then Dean was exposed to what he did from a young age which gave it a sense of normality for him. If Charlesworth was also around then that may have developed a community feel about what they were doing, and Dean would have found it both acceptable and normal," Brennan explained, noting the teeth like marks on the femur.

Booth saw the attention she was paying to the body. "Same again?" He asked.

Brennan nodded. "I think eating part of the flesh was a ritual for them. It's only on one part, the same on each body."

"Can you tell if it's the same pair of teeth?" Booth questioned, standing up and looking over her shoulder.

Brennan shook her head. "I can just about ascertain that they're teeth marks, but they're too haphazard to work out whose. If I had to say I would suggest that it may be the teeth marks of more than one set of teeth."

"Interesting," Booth said, sitting back down.

"I think you mean gross," Angela informed him. "I think I will now go and continue my work with skulls." She left the room, leaving a smile on Booth's face.

Brennan felt Booth watching her for a few minutes and wondered at the self conscious feelings it brought. She had never paid much attention to when anyone else was in the room, usually being too absorbed in what she was doing, but she found herself aware of every move, even eyelid flicker that Booth made.

He stood up and edged closer to her. "I need to get to my office," he whispered, moving closer. She turned to him and removed the gloves she always wore when carrying out such investigations. Looking at him she noticed something in his eyes that she had seen before over the past couple of days and didn't quite understand.

"I'll see you later," he said softly again. "I'll come by after six to see how things are going, unless I find an excuse to call here before."

"Why would you need an excuse? We have a serial killer on out hands, I would have thought that what went on here would have been one of your priorities," she said, not comprehending his meaning.

He laughed and she wasn't sure why. "Anyway, Bones. I will wait with you here until you decide to leave to go home."

"I told you before, I don't need protection. I'm capable of handling myself!" She flared.

"You had someone in here two nights ago rummaging round for things to do with this case. That person is bound to know of the scale of what we're working on and I would imagine they would come back," he argued, stepping closer to her.

"But I will be fine. They're not going to hurt me. You don't need to waste your time being my body guard!" She retorted.

"Have you considered that I want to do it? That if I leave you here I will be worried sick about whether you get home alright, that you remember to eat?" He seemed to stop himself from continuing.

"I know, I'm your partner, you have an interest in me. Come by then, if it makes you feel better," she conceded. He sighed. She wondered if there was something she hadn't got.

"I will," he put his hands on her shoulders and bent down, gently kissing the side of her cheek. Her hand automatically went to the place his lips had grazed and she looked at him warily.

"Did you do that with all your partners?" She asked curiously.

Booth laughed. "Only the ones without stubbly cheeks!" She smiled, still puzzled.

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Booth left the room feeling a little dazed. Too many thoughts ran through his head. He had known that working with Bones was going to cause a problem at some point. She had been part of the reason that Tessa had left him, and now she was distracting him from being focused on the case. He took deep breaths and went to leave the building, keeping an eye open for passing squints. Unfortunately he almost bumped in Angela who was on her way back from one of the other floors.

"Hello, Agent Booth," she said in her usual manner. "So, are you going to fill me in one what's happening between you and Tempe or am I going to continue to suffer?"

He managed a smile. "Nothing is going on," he replied, a little sorrowfully.

Angela cocked her head to one side. "You've spent the past night together…"

"Two nights – I stayed at her place the night before… On the couch!" He added, noticing the look that appeared on Angela's face. He looked at the expression on the artist's face and read it accurately. "I don't think she's interested."

"Now, sweetie, that's not true. She's told me she likes you. Okay, never in a direct way, but she hasn't denied it," Angela smiled. "You know you're better off being a skeleton for her to analyse, you know. She'll never know that you're interested unless you are direct about it."

Booth laughed a little wryly. "But if I find some way to show her I'm scared of what her reaction might be."

Angela looked at him as a school teacher might a naughty child. "You, big FBI man, scared? Of Tempe? Don't be so ridiculous!"

Booth sighed. He had no idea why he was discussing this with Angela. He had never contradicted her when she had announced to him that she thought he had feeling for her friend but he had never confirmed it either.

"You know what she's like. If I went to kiss her she'd probably try and grab my gun and shoot me," he said dejectedly.

Angela laughed. "Keep giving her little hints. She does feel a lot more for you than just friendship, Booth, she just doesn't understand how to deal with it or act on it."

"She's had relationships before," he said.

Angela shrugged. "Yeah, she's had lovers, but no serious relationship where I guess she's been in love. She's scientific. Feelings like love can't be explained by her text books so she has no idea how to handle them. Plus she has been emotionally hurt with losing her parents. Likely she's put up a defensive barrier to stop it happening again."

Booth nodded. "Do you talk about me?" He asked, half looking at her.

"Yeah, sometimes. She'll say how annoying you are and then list everything you've done in the smallest detail. She'd only notice that if she was interested," Angela smiled.

Booth nodded. "I'd best get back to the office. Bones has taken up enough of my thoughts as it is."

Angela laughed and walked off, passing a few more words of encouragement. He knew he had to do something soon else this was going to eat away at him.

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Angela headed straight for where she knew that Tempe would be, engrossed in her work as usual. It surprised her when her friend looked straight up at her as she entered her proximity.

"Are you okay?" Angela asked, looking at Brennan with amusement. She seemed flustered.

"No, not really," she replied, looking directly at Angela with a frustrated look on her face. "Booth has just been in, being all concerned about me here on my own tonight and saying he'll stop by and I don't understand."

Angela smiled. "Maybe he's looking for an excuse to spend some time with you."

Brennan shook her head. "He spends lots of time with me. We're partners."

Angela squeezed her lips together to stop a smiled from erupting. "Maybe he wants to spend more time with you, honey, out of work."

Brennan looked at her puzzled.

"Don't you want to see more of him?" Angela pushed. "You look for him sometimes when it gets to lunchtime and he's not called in."

"I do not!"

Angela looked up, half rolling her eyes, refusing to be drawn into this argument. " Tempe, I think he likes you a lot."

She was amused to see her friend blush a slight shade of red.

"Do you like him? Now, don't be all coy and shy about this, this is normal. He's an attractive guy, an extremely attractive, intelligent guy, but do you like him," she saw Brennan struggle for words as she thought.

"He's, he's… got strong pectorals," Brennan spat out, looking bemused with herself.

It was now Angela's turn to be puzzled.

"I saw him with just a towel wrapped round his middle last night – my shower wasn't working so I went to use his," Brennan explained.

Angela nodded. "Again, that's a normal reaction. Booth has a good physique." She gave Tempe some space to think.

"Is this normal, Ange, to not be able to concentrate as well?"

"Perfectly normal. It's also quite a usual reaction to feel slightly woozy whenever he touches you, and to notice every thing about him and to listen attentively to everything he says," Angela explained.

"I think I might have feelings for Booth."

"You don't say."

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	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Thank you for all the reviews! I had an amazing number - more than I've ever gotten for a single chapter before. So thank to every one who reviewed, and consider me sharing my chocolate covered Booth with you.

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Chapter 7

Booth came by at just after seven, carrying a bottle of wine and a bag of groceries. The lab was empty, except for Brennan; Zack and Hodgins had left an hour ago, and Angela had just gone after spending the last thirty minutes procrastinating over what to wear on a date she had with her new beau. Brennan looked up as he entered, slightly on edge as the last time she had been alone in the lab someone had entered and taken evidence. What had been taken hadn't been crucial – obviously the person who did it hadn't known exactly what they were looking for, but that just made Brennan think that they were likely to make a return visit.

He came straight to her as she sat at her computer, imputing details about the thirteen women whose skeletonized remains had been uncovered. No more, thankfully, had been found; although the soco's had searched using sophisticated geo physics equipment and the woman who had led the search seemed to have a good nose for those sorts of things.

She had faxed what information she had discovered off to Booth's office some time ago, and was now about to begin work on identifying the remains and seeing that they were returned at long last to any relatives that may still be missing them. Booth's arrival meant that he had more than likely finished what he needed to do for the day, and a few mysteries may have been solved.

He sat down next to her at her desk, putting the wine on the table and the bag on the floor. "Any intruders that you've manhandled so far?" He asked in his velvety tones. Brennan found herself reminiscing back to the conversation she had had with Angela earlier, and the confession she had made.

"You're the only intruder I might possibly be maiming tonight," she answered, trying not to look up from her computer.

"I might just look forward to that!" He said, jokingly. She wondered if he was flirting with her. "We have some results." He announced, placing a finger under her chin and making her look up at him. She felt her body react to just a slight touch and surprised herself by not moving away from it. Feeling her heart jump in her chest she wondered if he understood the look she knew was showing in her eyes and felt rather scared at where the evening might end. Scared, but not in a bad way.

"What are they?" She half whispered as he removed his finger.

"William McKenzie served two years in prison at the age of eighteen for attempted murder on a prostitute. He was released in 1930. In 1951, Dean came to live with him in Moreton Street as his mother was unable to cope with him, so her Uncle Willy took him in. They then lived on and off at Moreton Street until 1976 when Uncle Willy died. Dean stayed there until 1981 when the house was officially condemned, and moved in with his cousin, Davey. How is this fitting with your timelines?" He explained, looking rather like the cat that had gotten the cream.

"The first murder I would put in 1926, which would make William 16 when it was committed. There were four more between 1931 and 1945. The three women that were found today died between 1950 and 1955, and then there was a break until 1966. The next five bodies died in a period of the next twenty years, which takes us up to 1986, after the house was emptied. This is a major case, isn't it?" She felt better being able to talk facts with him, like she was more in control.

"It's going to be huge, especially when the media gets hold of it. One thing that you should know is that William McKenzie was arrested on several occasions in relation to reports of assaults on women in and out of the area. One three occasions in 1969, 1971 and 1974 Dean was also taken into questioning with regard to missing women, an assault and a body that was discovered in Ecclesview, ten miles away. How on earth all of these were missed over the years I do not know, but I would imagine that there will be some serious questions asked. We need to get identities for each of these victims, and tomorrow we'll be heading off to Craigon Avenue again and that greenhouse," he grinned. "Spending more time together, Bones."

She rolled her eyes. "What's happening there now – shouldn't we be starting already?"

Booth shook his head. "No. Davey has been taken into custody, so that keeps him out of the equation for a while at least," he eyed her seriously, pausing for a few seconds. "I have a bag of well chosen groceries and a bottle of excellent wine. I'm taking you back to my place."

She looked at him like he'd just suggested that she should run into the street naked. "I have to carry on with these. And my bog man has received no attention at all these past few days…" She was stopped by the look of amusement on his face.

"Temperance, you need to eat, and to have a rest. If after you have eaten you still want to come back and work I will bring you here and help you in what ever way I can. This case is going to be a long one, but it's not urgent. Both people we suspect of murder are dead so they're not going to be hurting anyone else," his tone was gentle. She looked at the bottle of wine on the table and noticed he'd bought the same one they had drank at her house two nights ago. In the bag she could see fresh vegetables and what looked to be duck, one of her favourites. She gave a quick glance at the computer screen and then to where the body of the bog man had been stored, and felt a twinge of guilt.

"I promise you, Tempe, I will bring you back if you still feel the urge to work after you've sampled my cooking," he grinned wickedly and she felt her heart enlarge in her chest. Or it seemed to. She knew that what she was feeling was being caused by pheromones due to her physical, unconscious reaction to him. She debated in her head what to do, the conversation she had with Angela earlier playing back in her mind.

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Booth waited for her to make a decision, noticing the expressions on her face that showed the debate her mind was going through. He had decided, after having a long phone call with a detective in Ecclesview, that he had to finally make a move and attempt to woo her, otherwise he might spend the rest of his life simply watching her and becoming increasingly frustrated.

She looked him directly in the eye and he braced himself for her answer.

"You're right, this is going to be a long case, with a lot of all-nighters. Can you cook?" He exhaled releasing the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. For half a second he felt a little speechless. Bones had agreed to come back to his place with him. She hadn't put up an argument, or tried to insult him. Maybe Angela was right and she did feel a little more for him than friendship. He hoped so.

"I can actually cook quite well.,"he began to speak rather louder than he usual tone."And I think that after a night of diner food like yesterday, we have the right to eat something healthy and nutritious and tasty," with each adjective he took an item out of the bag and placed it heavily on her desk.

"Booth, are you nervous?" She asked him, brow furrowed.

"Yes, I am," he began to put the groceries back into the bag.

"Why? If you're worried about cooking then we could always eat out," she offered. Her hand touched his slightly and he felt a jolt of electricity whip through him.

"No, Bones, I can cook fine. I'm nervous about you coming back to my house," he admitted, realising that he was still speaking in a rather unnatural manner.

"We could go back to mine if it's untidy…" she managed to look endearing even when she was puzzled. A warm feeling poured over him, he recognised it and gave a silent, inward groan.

"No, I'm not nervous about cooking or my place being a mess as it isn't," he took a deep breath and wondered if to give her a clue, let her know that he felt the same way as he had when he gone on his very first date with a girl called Susie when he was fifteen. He decided not to tell her, it would be more fun, seeing her work it out for herself.

"Well, what are you nervous about?" She asked, standing up after shutting down her computer. Most of the evidence had been locked securely away already, so she just needed to get her things together.

He smiled, feeling a little calmer. "Nothing, Bones."

They left the Jeffersonian, Booth double checking that everything had been locked away safely. It was a quiet night, rather like the quiet before a storm as he knew that tomorrow fuel would be given to the media's fire as all of what had happened at Moreton Street became known. Somehow they had managed to keep what had been discovered out of the headlines, but Booth knew that all of this would change shortly.

They headed to his car, and he opened the door for the doctor, surprising her with his behaviour.

"You don't usually do that!" She said as he let himself in, his hair now slightly dampened by the rain that had begun to fall.

"I'm not usually taking you back to mine for dinner," he said, concentrating on starting up the engine.

"Is this a date, Booth?" The question seemed to come from no where and it caught him by surprise.

"Do you want it to be a date, Bones? If you do, then it's a date," he answered, trying hard to sound nonchalant by pretending he was focusing all of his attention on his car and not even looking at her.

She as silent and he wondered if she thought he had duped her. Did she want it to be a date? Or was she more interested in having a working dinner and talking over the case and the possible identities of these women?

"Do you want it to be a date, Booth?" She asked. "If so, I should probably call you Seeley and you should call me Tempe; although you have been doing that already tonight," she said in her a rather emotionless voice. He wondered if he should take that as being that she wanted it to be a date. She hadn't said no.

"Yes, I would like this to be a date," he answered her flatly, knowing that dealing with this conversation as factually and scientifically as possible would make it easier. Although kissing her would probably have the same effect and would be less painful, possibly, if she didn't slap him first.

She looked at him, hard enough so that he had to turn to her and glance at her before putting his eyes back on the road in front of him. "If this was a normal first date would you have taken me back to your place?" She asked him.

He laughed. "Well, maybe after!" He felt a hand slap his arm lightly.

"Booth!" She reprimanded.

"I thought you were going to call me Seeley," he said, giving her his lopsided, lazy grin.

"If you switch into date mode and stop acting like an arrogant FBI suit then maybe I will," she said harshly. It made him smile.

"Maybe I don't have a date mode and I'm this way all the time," he argued back.

She shrugged. "Then maybe you have been very unsuccessful with women."

"Well, you've agreed to go on a date with me," he argued back. Would they actually manage to have a conversation tonight without bickering? Or were they destined to forever dance around each other like a pair of squabbling hens?

"But it isn't a normal date," she retorted.

"How is it not a normal date?"

"Because you didn't ask me, and I've not had a chance to get changed or do anything with my hair or talk to Angela about it. This isn't how dates are meant to happen," she said, sounding a little perturbed.

"Then do you want me to drive you back to the lab, get soaking wet again walking out of the car, and ask you if you would like to go on a date with me, then wait for you to phone Angela and then take you home so you could change and get ready?" He knew he sounded more frustrated than he actually was.

"No. I wouldn't do that anyway," she said a little quieter. His heart thumped at the tone she had in her voice.

"What happened when you've been on dates in the past?" He asked her, grateful for an easier conversation.

"I've usually gone out with men I've been working with…"

"Like me?" He interrupted.

She shook her head. "No, scientists usually. And, I don't know, Booth, it's different from how Angela does things. I know I'm not the best at things like this." He realised that she was just as nervous as he was.

"You've had boyfriends before," he stated rather than questioned. He had met one of them, unfortunately.

"They haven't been serious," she said a little sadly. "There was never the time for anything serious to develop."

"There's always time," he said, gently. "If it's with the right person then you make the time. Maybe you've just not met the right man yet."

He felt her look at him, wondering if she could read his thoughts and hoped she couldn't.

"Maybe. I never wanted a relationship with them, it was always just a convenience, a mutual thing," she admitted.

He stopped the car on his driveway, taking in what she had said. "Would this be just a convenience?" He asked her, blocking her way to the door as she got out of the car.

She looked at him, eyes full of something he could not define. "I don't know," she answered.

He unlocked the door and let her in.

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	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: At the beginning of the series a man was moving stuff rather sneakily out of Tempe's apartment. As I've read the Kathy Reichs books I may have got slightly confuddled and thought that this guy was Pete, her ex husband, hence the reference to him in this chapter. I may be wrong, he mayjust have been a live in lover, so please excuse if it is a mistake.**

Enjoy, this is a nice fluffy chapter before we return to that thing called a plot...

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**Chapter 8**

She looked around Booth's apartment, taking in her surroundings. It was immaculately tidy with several photos adorning the place, mainly of his son Parker.

"You have a nice place," she told him truthfully.

"Thank you," he replied, holding out his hand to take her coat. Brennan felt the slight strangeness of the situation. She was in Booth's house in a different capacity to what she was normally and she wasn't quite sure what to say or how to act. Something urged her to talk about work, it was a safe topic, but she felt that wasn't appropriate.

"I'm going to start cooking," Booth – Seeley – announced. "You can wait in here or join me in the kitchen," he offered, smiling at her.

"I'll watch you cook. It'll be interesting to see how you manage," she smiled a little shyly and followed him into the kitchen.

"I'll manage just fine," he said, a little arrogantly and begun to unpack the grocery bag. "There are wine glasses in there," he pointed to a cupboard and then put a corkscrew on the kitchen table. She found the glasses, her confidence showing through and acting like she had been in that kichen a million times before,and began to uncork the wine, sitting down at the table and watching him as he handily took out implements and set about preparing dinner.

He was right, he did know what he was doing and for a few minutes she simply watched him, chopping and dicing vegetables, preparing the duck, and an elaborate looking sauce that he hadn't needed a recipe for. She was impressed.

"So, how did you get so good at this?" She asked, once he had finished chopping.

"Living in my own for so long and entertaining beautiful women. Cooking impresses the ladies," he shot a grin back at her.

"Do you often cook for other women?" She felt something she identified as jealousy race through her and took a long drink of her wine.

He placed the veggies in a pot and came to sit beside her at the table, picking up the wine he hadn't yet touched. He glanced at her, his expression serious for once. "I haven't dated anyone in a while, Tempe," he admitted. "So you're the only woman I've cooked for recently."

She eyed him and reached for the bottle to top up her glass. "I feel like I should be honoured," she smiled, pouring a generous helping of wine. She added more to his glass also.

He smiled back, almost shyly, playing with the glass' stem, running his fingers gently up and down it, occasionally twirling it round. She noticed the ease of his touch and wondered what it would be like for his fingers to touch her. She tried to shrug of the thought, and then stopped. It wasn't an unpleasant imagining. "Nah, I'm just an old FBI agent. It's me whose honoured, having the famous Temperance Brennan here, forensic anthropologist and author. I'm sure many men would be envious," he stood up and went to check his cooking, putting the prepared duck in the oven and setting a timer.

"I doubt it!" Brennan responded. "I'm not sure that they would like the reality of eating with someone who does what I do all day!"

He laughed softly and sat back down. "You say you've not had a relationship that wasn't based on convenience – but you were married, weren't you?"

Brennan rolled her eyes. "Just because I had the idiocy to marry Pete doesn't mean that it wasn't because it was convenient. He and I went to university together. It was very easy to get married to him, and obviously it was easy for him, although he didn't find it easy to actually stick to his vows." The tone in her voice let Booth know what her thoughts were on the subject.

"You don't see yourself ever getting back together with him?" He asked.

Brennan laughed. "No, in a word. That ship has sunk. What about you and Parker's mom?"

Booth smiled slightly and shook his head. "I think you mean 'that ship has sailed'! She's engaged and I think she probably wishes that Parker's dad was the man she was with now."

"No, I did mean sank. It's a good description of mine and Pete's relationship. Why did you and she split up?" Brennan asked. This wasn't a conversation she had ever dreamed of having with Booth, but somehow, given the circumstances it seemed right to have it tonight.

"Work. I worked all the time and she thought I was neglecting her and Parker. I probably was, although I didn't intend to. She left me when Parker was nine months old and moved in with Carl – the man she's with now," he explained.

"That must be hard, having another man bring up your child," she said, trying to stop anthropological studies of cultures where that happened frequently from coming into her mind.

"Yeah, it is. She's not keen on me seeing him all that often, but he knows who his daddy is," he smiled. Talking about Parker usually made him smile.

"You like being a father, don't you?" She said, smiling at him as he drank his wine.

He nodded before swallowing. "Parker's great. I just wish he was with me more often. He does have a good mom though, and his step dad is okay too, but…" he tapped his finger on the table in annoyance.

"He may chose to be with you when he's older, Booth. He could get that option," she tried to comfort.

Booth smiled at her and she felt her heart melt a little bit more. "I know," he paused. "So Pete was unfaithful to you?" He asked openly.

Brennan nodded. "By the time I found out it was just a good excuse to end the marriage. It had been a stupid idea in the first place and if I'd thought about it logically it never would have happened."

"But love's not about being logical," he replied.

"Attraction is," she looked up at him. "Through pheromones the body can identify whether a person would be a good match to produce children with, and if the other person can make up for any deficiencies and hence produce healthy offspring. It's a survival instinct."

Booth laughed. "It's more than that, Tempe, and you know it. Fair enough, there may be chemicals involved and pheromones, but that can only last for a short while before either a relationship dissolves or something else is there kicks in. There needs to be something to explain why some couples stay together all their lives and other last a night, months or a few years."

"Societies mores and norms can answer a lot of that. Couples in years gone by would stay together because that was what was expected of them. It wouldn't mean that they were happy, or weren't having affairs. In one culture women mate with a man and they bring the child up on their own, not maintaining a relationship with its father. Love certainly does not make the world go round," she felt that she was becoming too serious for a date.

"So explain us," he demanded, the question taking her by surprise.

"What's 'us'?" She asked, needing clarification.

"Us. Sat here now, having a date after working together for so long. We agreed it was a date, Temperance, so you're not here to just talk about work," he responded.

She looked thoughtful for a second.

-------------------------

He expected her to begin a long diatribe involving chemicals and societal rules, and was surprised when it didn't come.

"I don't know," she said softly after taking a gulp of her wine. The answer knocked him back and he laughed.

"Maybe it's just something we have to get out of our system," she said a little tentatively.

He filled up her glass and emptied the bottle. They had been drinking quickly. Thankfully he already had more wine in. It looked like they would need it.

"Maybe it is," he replied. He knew it wasn't. He knew well by now that he couldn't go a day without at least having some contact with Brennan. She had become as vital to him as oxygen. They provoked each other and argued almost incessantly some days, but that fire only added to the attraction. He got jealous when she had gone on dates with other men and when her ex boyfriend had turned up, something he wasn't prone to doing. He'd been jealous once just because she'd had an hour long conversation with some man on the phone about a university they'd both attended, so much so that he'd managed to get his name and check him out, feeling slightly stupid when he'd found out that he'd been in a relationship for five years with his partner who was called Michael. That same night, he'd gone out with Tessa for a meal at a posh restaurant. She'd talked endlessly about a new lawyer who had started at her office, telling him all about how he'd used to model and how intelligent he was. Booth had responded by telling her to go out with him except she'd taken that as a sign that he'd been jealous. He hadn't; he'd meant it. And that was the beginning of the end of him and Tessa.

Bones looked at little blankly at him and he wondered if he had given her the right response. He hadn't told her truth, but he doubted he'd get very far into a relationship with her if he confessed his undying love right here and now. Was that it? He wondered to himself as he stood up to check their meal. Was he in love with her?

She was quiet for a few minutes while he added something extra to the pot with the duck in it and he worried a little about whether he should have said that he didn't think it was something they just needed to get out of their systems.

"Nearly ready," he told her, sitting back down. She gave him that smile that was one of the reasons he wanted to get up in the mornings. Get up and see her.

"It smells good," she said, sniffing appreciatively. "Do you have many hidden talents?"

He laughed, grateful for the change in conversation. "I might let you find out some more of them if you're lucky!"

"If Angela heard you say that she'd want to know what you were implying," Brennan laughed with him.

"Where is Angela tonight?" He asked. "She's usually with you till quite late, I was surprised that she wasn't still at the lab."

"She's gone on another date with her boyfriend," Brennan informed him.

"So he's become the 'boyfriend' then?" Booth pulled a face that made Brennan laugh. It made him feel like some knight to be able to make her smile or laugh like that.

"It seems so. She's all loved up and talking almost non stop about him. The only time today she took a breather from telling me how his body looked naked was when she…" Brennan stopped mid flow.

"When she what?" Booth pushed, having a feeling that they had been talking about him. In fact, he imagined that right after Angela had finished talking to him she would have gone straight to her friend and said a few choice things. He doubted she had told Brennan that they had had such a conversation, but he got the feeling that Angela was desperate for Bones to have a little love in her life.

"She asked me about you," Bones said evasively.

"And what did you say?"

"That you had strong pectorals."

He laughed heartily, realising that there was a lot that he could probably read into that statement without being wrong. He was aware that reading people was one of his fortes, and if he was reading Bones correctly then she was attracted to him. He wondered if it was just pheromones as she said, or whether it was something more. He went to the cooker as the timer rang and began to get everything ready to serve. "There a candle in that cupboard over there and a table cloth, if you would," he nodded to the cupboard that he meant and she stood and got out the items, laying them out then getting cutlery from the drawer.

He noticed how they moved about each other, not clashing about the small area. She put her hands on his hips as she moved passed him, a gesture that startled him. She wasn't an especially tactile person, and he had seen her flinch when touched on occasion. She'd set the table by the time he'd put out the food, pleased with his efforts.

"Shall we have some more wine?" She asked him, standing close. He left the two plates on the kitchen work top and turned around to face her. His eyes locked with hers and he found his hand moving up to her face, brushing her jaw with his fingers. He felt her shudder at his touch, and realised that she had enjoyed the small sensation and had felt the chemistry that was flowing between them.

He decided to take his chances. He bent slightly and moved toward her to kiss her, stopping just short and giving her the opportunity to move to him and accept the kiss. She did, and he felt their lips touch.

-----------------

She had wanted him to kiss her, that had been why she had stood so close in the first place, but even so, when his lips finally met hers she had almost fell down with the intensity of it. It started off as a gently, rather like how a powerful wave begins, and then grew in force. She found her arms were wrapped around his neck and his were clutching at her waist, their bodies as close as possible with clothes separating them. She felt as if she was pleasantly drowning as the crest of the wave grew, and her hunger was no longer a hunger for the food that Booth had cooked, but for the chef instead.

Eventually, the kiss ended. They stood, still clutching at each other, both a little taken back by what had happened. She looked into his eyes, searching for an answer to a question she wasn't sure of yet. He looked back at her, a grin slowly forming on his face. He didn't say anything, but the silence was not uncomfortable. Instead his mouth again moved to hers and began another kiss, less intense than the first but with a depth that Brennan had not experienced before, even with her ex husband. She wondered how she was going to continue to stand up; her legs felt as if they had been turned to something unable to withstand her weight and she was aware that he was practically holding her up. But she daren't break away from the kiss, it felt too good.

After several months of denying that she had any feelings for the FBI agent other than annoyance the kiss came as a relief, a venting. She was aware of his taste, of the feel of his lips soft against hers and the impossible joy of his grip. He was the one controlling it, the pace of it, its depth and force. His hands were gently holding her, but they were firm. She felt safely on fire, and it all felt so right, like the pieces of a jigsaw that had been clicked together.

The kiss changed, he changed it into quick, hard touches of the lips, leaving her gasping for more. Her hand rose to the back of his head and pushed him back to her. He obliged and their lips locked once more. She could feel the passion grow again, and although their hands had stayed still, she was aware that at some point they would want to wander and the kiss would go further. She knew that was what she wanted, this need in her that Booth had created to be fulfilled, but she knew that it shouldn't be tonight. If it was then it would only be out of convenience, to scratch an itch, and she wasn't sure whether this was something out of convenience, even if he thought it might. He was a good man, maybe he was worth taking a risk on.

Eventually lingering lips parted and he looked at her, smiling, their bodies still close and her arms still wrapped around his neck, his around her waist. She realised that he didn't look worried or regretful, or confused or smug, just happy.

"We should eat," he said, not letting her go. "Before it gets too cold."

She nodded, looking down toward her feet that she could barely see. One of his hands moved from her waist and a finger pushed up her chin so she met his eyes.

"You're still holding me, Tempe. You've not slapped me yet, or tried to give me the anthropological reason for what's just happened," he said softly. She found herself smiling, her surprising shyness waning.

"You didn't force me to kiss you," she said, her hands moving down his back and under the top his shirt. She felt goose bumps appear on his back as she touched him and was pleased by the reaction she could cause in him.

"No, that's true," he paused. "We should eat this food. It would be a shame to let it get too cold." He bent down and gave her a quick kiss before unwrapping himself from her and picking up the plates, putting them down at the table. She sat down with him, knowing that she could hide the smile she wore on her face. But that smile was mirrored on his as well, and she knew that what had just happened between them had affected him just as much as her.

She found she was hungry as they both began to eat, and the meal, if not piping hot, was delicious.

"How did you do this?" She asked.

"What? Become so irresistible to forensic anthropologists?"

She laughed despite herself and shook her head. "Cook so well?"

Booth shook his head. "It's just something I can do. I've never had lessons. I like nice food and I think I have good taste." His eyes twinkled at her.

She felt herself flush a little, understanding the hint he had given her, but her eyes remained meeting his. They ate quickly, both hungry, and said very little. Brennan noticed how he was smiling more than she ever seen and something told her that that was because of her.

Once they had finished she collected the plates and took them over to the sink. Standing there, she felt arms snake round her from behind her close and her back made contact with Booth's chest. He began to kiss her neck, moving her hair gently out of the way. She felt her eyes close, holding onto the sides of the sink for support. She knew that they ought to discuss what was happening, but this was so much easier.

Then her phone rang. Booth stopped what he was doing and paused as if in shock at being interrupted.

"I should get that," she sighed, and hunted for her bag.

Angela's name showed up on the caller id. "Ange?" She answered.

" Tempe, there's a problem at the lab."

(TBC)

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_Thank you to everyone who hasreviewed so far, particularly if you've done every chapter (feyrey and Sonnet, Slayergirlkal, Stephanie519, Canadiangirl, Erkith, Gossipgirl1031, Dianmonds in the Sky, and Azarethangel among others!). _


	9. Chapter 9

(Sonnet – got your room/clothes line in here!)

**A/N: Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer - I'm only playing with them! They're not mine, all Fox TV and whoever else's. But not mine. Sob**

**Chapter 9**

Booth watched as she took the phone call, feeling frustration rising in his chest. He had had no intentions to sleep with her tonight, that would be too soon, but he had rather liked the idea of curling up with her on the sofa and watching an old movie, or even just talking. Now they had gotten past the flirty glances and actually kissed he felt a barrage of emotions hitting him hard like hailstones. If she went to the lab now he was afraid that she might just erase what had happened from her mind, or change what she felt and order him to stay away from her. He didn't think he could do that now. He wanted this with her.

She looked at him, eyes wide. "Ange sounds upset – she's at the lab and something's happened there," she said, he noticed a slight look of vulnerability on her face that he hadn't seen before.

"I'll drive," he said, grabbing there coats and walking toward the door.

"You always do."

He grinned. "I've only had two glasses of wine. You had the rest of the bottle. Did she say what had happened?"

Brennan shook her head. "If it wasn't urgent she wouldn't have called," she said as they left the house. "She asked if I was with you."

"Did you tell her?" He asked, opening the car door for her. She stepped in, automatically fastening her seat belt.

"Yes, I said you were with me."

He jumped into the driver's side. "And she didn't ask for details?"

Brennan shook her head. "No, which makes me worry that something is really wrong."

He started up the engine with one and hand and the other squeezed her knee. He half expected her to rebuke him for doing so, but instead she put her hand on top of his. He wanted to tell her his fears – that she might stop what they had started – but he doubted that now was the right time and his brain had already begun to process what might have gone on at the lab.

"Angela was on a date tonight, wasn't she?" He asked.

Brennan nodded. "You think her date's done something?" She looked worried.

"I don't know, Tempe. But we'll soon be there to find out," he put his foot down, zooming through a couple of red lights and breaking speed limits.

In half they time it usually took they were at the Jeffersonian. Booth pulled over and practically abandoned the car. Brennan dashed out and ran, following him toward the lab. Streams of people were racing ahead of them, including the police. She looked at him, a note of panic in her eyes that he hadn't seen since he had been in hospital after taking a bullet for her. He put a hand on her shoulder and slowed her.

"Tempe, slow down. You know Angela is fine, she called you," he reassured. He expected her to move his hand off of her shoulder but she seemed to just move closer to him instead. She was still the strongest woman he knew, but that didn't mean he couldn't at least try to take care of her.

As they drew closer to the lab he saw Dr Goodman running toward them, anxiety pictured on his face.

"Dr Brennan, Agent Booth," he called out. "I believe Miss Montenegro called you?"

Brennan nodded, waiting for him to tell her what had happened.

"She is fine – now. We seem to have had a slight bother with her new boyfriend," they walked with him into the lab, bypassing security who were based all around.

"What happened?" Booth spoke up.

Dr Goodman sighed deeply. "I think Angela would like to tell you herself," he said, leading them to a room just opposite Brennan's office where Angela would often work in peace.

Through the window he could see the other woman. She had clearly been upset but had now calmed herself. She spotted them passing and managed to raise a smile. As they entered the room Angela stood and Booth watched as Brennan embraced her closely then sat down beside her.

"What's happened?" She asked her friend. Any normal social awkwardness from Brennan had gone. Her one concern was now Angela. She hadn't asked about evidence from the case, although obviously that had been tampered with as he had noticed on the way in. He felt proud of her for some reason.

Angela looked down at the floor, obviously trying not to cry. "I guess I don't have very good taste in men," she said, her voice chocking.

"What do you mean?" Booth crouched down in front of her.

Angela laughed rather dryly. "Matthew, the guy I've been seeing who worked in the offices here, well, he wasn't interested in me, as such, more like the fact that I had keys to get in the place." She rolled her eyes.

"He was the one who broke in here the other night?" Angela nodded at his question. "That's not your fault, Angela, that's his!"

She gave a forced half-smile. "Yeah? Well, it doesn't stop me feeling like a fool. He was really nice. Or well I thought he was. On Friday, after you left Wong Foo's, Booth,we went back to his. Almost immediately I fell asleep, I put my tiredness down to a traumatic week, although nearly every week here's traumatic and I'm not usually tired on a Friday. He must have taken my keys to get in here, then put then back.

"Tonight he just demanded I give him the keys. He'd been really sweet – asking all about my job, and what work I'd done to identify the bodies. It was the first time anyone I'd been out with actually took an interest in what I did, so I probably told him more than I should," she shook her head, berating herself. "I refused to give him the keys, so he got angry. He tied me up," she showed them red welts on her wrists from where ropes had bound her. "And searched me for the keys. He brought me here with him and made me watch while he ransacked all the evidence we have on the house of horror case, asking me where various things were kept. What he actually wanted wasn't there."

"What was that?" Booth asked her.

"He wanted any evidence connected with Roger Charlesworth. That was when it clicked," she looked up them, her composure regained. "His name – it's Matthew Charlesworth."

Booth sat down on the floor, letting another piece of the jigsaw click into place. Roger Charlesworth had lived in Moreton Street with Dean and Uncle Willy. They had theorised that he may have had something to do with the murders. "Did he say if Roger Charlesworth was still alive?" He asked rapidly.

Angela shrugged. "What he was saying gave me the impression that he was. He kept on saying "Have they found the bones – uncle wants them," or something like that. I tried telling him that that there were a lot of bones round here so he'd have to be more specific."

"He was looking for the small bones that were missing, the ones we though may have been taken as trophies. We haven't recovered them yet," Brennan looked at him, her face serious. "Ange, did he ask anything about evidence that was taken from Craigon Avenue?"

Angela nodded. "He wanted to know where it was. I kept telling him that it wasn't here. That was when he got annoyed and stormed off."

"How did you manage to get free of the ropes?" Booth asked, standing up.

"Perseverance. I waited till he had gone and then managed to contort myself round so it was actually quite easy. I probably could have done it sooner, but I didn't want to try while he was here in case he got angry," she looked impossibly glum. Booth hadn't seen Angela like this before, she was an optimist and rarely out of sorts. It was lucky that she was such a happy person. Any one else would likely be traumatised by now.

"You did the right thing," he looked towards Brennan. "We need to get over to Brigiton. I need to make a few phone calls and get people on sight at Matthew Charlesworth's address with a search warrant, and have someone looking for the whereabouts of Roger Charlesworth, although I had thought he was six feet under."

Booth stepped out of the room, cell phone out of his pocket and already at his ear.

-----------------------

"So cheer me up, Tempe," she said looking up at her friend with weary eyes. "You and Booth turned up together. Does that mean you were together? At night?"

Brennan sighed half happily. Angela did need some juicy gossip to help her feel better. She knew she would regret disclosing this later, especially while Dr Goodman was still there, but she supposed it would come out sooner or later.

"Yes, we were at Seeley's. We were putting the dinner plates in the dishwasher when you rang," she almost laughed out loud at the look on Angela's face. And Dr Goodman's.

"Have you kissed yet?" Angela perked up. Booth chose that moment to walk back into the room. He looked straight at Brennan. She wondered if he hadn't wanted her to say anything, but his mouth curled up into a huge grin.

"Several times," he answered for her, leaving Angela open mouthed.

"And I thought that you two would never come to your senses and we'd need to find a way to look you in a room together, possibly without your clothes," Dr Goodman stood up and left them all in a stunned silence.

"We need to head off," Booth looked at her once he had recovered from her boss' comment. "Angela, there is a police man outside waiting for you to give a formal statement. I am sure he'll look after you."

"Is he cute?" Angela asked, perking up. Brennan caught Booth's eye and they passed a smile between them.

"I don't know, Angela. I doubt I have the same idea of cute as you do," Booth retorted with amusement.

"Oh, I don't know," she smiled back. "I've always thought Brennan was cute, and quite clearly you do too."

------------------------

Brennan followed Booth back out to his car, any signs of tiredness erased by the adrenaline that was now flowing through her body. Booth had placed one hand on the small of her back, keeping her close to him and pushing her through the swarms of people now in the building. The breach in security was being taken seriously.

They saw Zack and Hodgins on their way out, and Brennan managed to issue instructions to them. Between them they were going to have to log all the evidence and make a list of what had been tampered with and taken. She would have like to have been their to do it herself, but she wanted to discover what had been going on with Angela's date, and had a feeling that there would be more evidence to secure back in Craigton Avenue.

They set off at speed, and she realised that they would be attempting the journey in record time. Darkened houses sped by into a blur as they began to race to Brigiton. Time was of the essence.

"I have a theory," she heard Booth begin after a few minutes of comfortable silence. "I don't think Dean Lammork is dead. I think it was actually Roger Charlesworth's body that was found, probably decomposed enough for it to be passed off as Dean's. I had no record for Dean being dead, yet when I checked this afternoon Roger Charlesworth was down as having died in 1997."

"How would they have done that?" Brennan shook her head.

"Charlesworth dies. He is declared dead by the coroner and given a death certificate. Dean and Davey take charge of the body and bring it to their house for a wake, or on the pretence of a wake. They put the body in the greenhouse where the temperature speeds up its decomposition. It's then left outside for Davey to find it who declares it to be Dean," Booth explained.

"Then why was there no death certificate for Dean Lammork?" She asked.

"Davey gets the sheriff to see the body and confirm the identity, for which he probably writes out a report. Davey offers to take responsibility for calling a doctor and having him fill out a death certificate. The sheriff lets him as he's bone idle and never bothers to chase it up. Davey and Dean dispose of the body, not getting a death certificate as they know a doctor will probably demand a post mortem, which will lead to complications," he ended.

"Why would they want people to think that Dean has died?" Brennan asked.

"It was in 1997 that the hotel company that's now building on the land began to enquire about buying it. They would have known that that would have resulted in the house being demolished and the likelihood of the bodies being found. If people thought Dean was dead, then he wouldn't be able to be arrested and charged. There isn't enough evidence to prove that Davey had anything to do with it to charge him, apart from the bag of bones perhaps, or any more bodies that have been buried on his property," he elucidated.

"This is beginning to make sense," Brennan concurred. "How does Matthew Charlesworth fit into…" she stopped short, having figured it out for herself. "He's the next one who's being coached by Dean. He got a job at the Jeffersonian to help destroy any evidence that came into the lab. Of course, he would have known all about the work I do with you and that any bones found on any property would eventually come to me." She sighed. "Poor Angela!"

"She'll get over it," Booth said.

"That's not fair, she's…"

"Trust me, Tempe, the officer interviewing her now will take her mind off what has happened nicely!"

"So you did think he was cute then," she smiled annoyingly at him.

"Ha ha," he mocked. He fell silent. She could practically here his brain ticking over. "How come you told Angela about us?" He asked after a pause of a few minutes. "And your boss?"

"Are you annoyed about it?" She asked. She hadn't thought he was. He was the one who had told them about him and her kissing several times.

He shook his head. "I'm surprised, Tempe. I didn't think that you would want anyone to know."

She studied him, seemingly concentrating on driving very fast to there destination, but as much as she hated to admit it, he was a good driver, and hence didn't need to concentrate that hard. He just didn't want to make eye contact with her, even for a split second.

"Why wouldn't I want anyone to know, Seeley?" She asked.

"I was worried that you'd want to forget all about what happened in the kitchen, so it surprised me when you confessed to Angela," he still didn't look at her.

"What makes you think I'd want to forget?" She felt genuinely concerned. The last thing she wanted to do was to not remember the kisses they'd shared and how he'd made her feel. What a relief it had been to finally do something about the attraction she had felt for him for so long, even though she'd only just realised what it was.

"Tempe," he finally glanced at her as he said her name before reverting his eyes back to the road. "I thought you might regret it and put it down to being tired."

"Is that what you hoped?" She asked, fear striking at her chest.

He laughed sarcastically. "No. I hoped that Angela was upset about something else and we could have gone back to mine again and you'd have sat curled up on the sofa with me, watching old movies."

She smiled at his vision of the night. It sounded much better than their present predicament. "Then maybe that's what we'll do tomorrow," she said lightly. She paused for a few seconds, thinking carefully about what she wanted to say. "I was happy to tell Angela that we'd been together," she said simply. "It cheered her up and gave her something to take her mind off what had happened."

"Is that the only reason?" He said, still sounding a little miserable.

"What do you think, Booth?" She said, her tone back to its usual abrasive crispness.

"Do you want it to happen again?" He didn't give up.

"Yes," she answered before she had even thought about the question, surprising herself. She did want it to happen again. In fact, she knew that whenever they next got the chance to sleep, she didn't want it to be away from him. It was like a dam had been broken and now gallons of water was now pouring in, saturating her with these strange emotions that made her feel elated, and made her think about something other than work.

She noticed the look on his face change to a smile. "Do you want it to?" She knew the answer bout it would be nice to hear him say it.

"Yes. But next time I want to take you for a proper date," he said firmly.

"As long as I get to choose the restaurant," she replied. Just because she was having fuzzy feeling toward him didn't mean that they couldn't banter.

"Nah, much better being me," he retorted.

"Then we'll end up at Wong Foo's again!"

The argument persisted until they reached Craigton Avenue. Brennan could see the street crawling with FBI officers and scene of crime officers. She looked at Booth.

"This is getting bigger, isn't it?" She said grimly, wondering what was to come of this second property, and how many more women would need their identities giving back to them.

He nodded, parking up as close as he could get to the property. "We're in for another long night."

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_Please review!_


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thanks to all those who reviewed the last chapter.**

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Chapter 10

No sign of Matthew Charlesworth had been found by the team of FBI agents that were already there. This concerned Booth as he was beginning to think that there may be other murders connected with Matthew, and nothing to say that he might not strike again. Also, if his theory was correct, then Dean Lammork was still alive and needed to be reprimanded. He wouldn't have minded betting, if he was a betting man, that Matthew had headed straight to Dean. So find Matthew, find Dean.

He and Brennan headed straight for the greenhouse. No one had been inside it yet, they had been waiting for words of command from Booth and the anthropologist on what to do, so he knew that any evidence they found would not have been tampered with. He watched as Brennan began to poke about, using the dim light from a torch to see. She seemed to know which places to look in, and what fascinated her most was a deep trough full of black soil, crawling with insects that made Booth wince.

"I think we need to get Hodgins here," she looked up and him and said. "This is his area of expertise." She gloved one hand and began to reach down into the soil. The trough was deep and as wide as a single bed, easily big enough to hold a human body.

"They've got some cracking plants growing in here," Booth said, flicking his flashlight around the greenhouse and catching sight of two officers who were stood outside.

"It's the fertiliser they've been using," Brennan said flatly. Booth winced at her meaning. "Booth!" She said urgently. He stepped quickly over to her side and pointed his light at what she was uncovering.

"Another body," he grimaced.

"She's not been here long," Brennan looked at him. "Maybe forty eight hours. Decomposition is accelerated because of the insects and the heat."

"That also accounts for the smell – it's not just manure," he said wryly.

She shook her head. "Get the soco's in here now to set up lighting. And I need Hodgins to come over from the lab," she directed the comment at an agent who had just entered the greenhouse, hand over mouth to attempt to counteract the rancid smell.

The agent looked at Booth, questioning the orders. "Do as the lady says," he confirmed.

"You be okay here while I go and issue instructions?" He asked, placing one hand on her shoulder. He liked this, working with her knowing that when they eventually got to finish she would still be with him.

She turned to him, looking at him with intense eyes. He swiftly gave her a small kiss, and to his surprise she didn't flinch or back away, she just smiled back at him. Clearly she'd made her mind up. The gap that had been between them had been closed with the night. It had taken a lot less heartache than what he would have predicted and it had been much easier. They just seemed to fit.

He left her to her preliminary searchings, having a sneaking suspicion that she was going to find other corpses before she was finished. He watched as three scene of crime officers entered the greenhouse, each carrying a bag of strange looking implements. One of them he recognised from Moreton Street and knew that she had done a good job there from what Tempe had said, so he felt a little happier that Tempe would be getting reasonable assistance.

Once outside he began to organise a search of the property, which included a good deal of land, much of it covered by trees. He was certain that more bodies had been buried here over the past eighty years. After all, there had been at least two murderers, likely three, or even four if Davey had been involved, that had carried out homicides for most of their lifetimes.

There had been no sightings of Matthew or his car. Armed officers had been to his apartment and had checked it thoroughly, he had seemingly not been there since he had left with Angela. Booth began to stride out over the back garden into the woodland. No one had yet done a comprehensive search of the area, so there was a strong possibility that Dean Lammork and Matthew Charleswork were hiding out some where on the estate.

He switched his torch off and switched it to his left hand. In his right he carried his gun, memories of a previous life as a sniper haunting him. He kept to he shadows, walking almost silently. Although it seemed illogical for the two men to be here, where half of the states police seemed to be, he had the strangest inkling of a feeling that they were. After all, who else would imagine that they would try to get into a property that was so well guarded at present? He was almost certain that Matthew would have headed straight here, and that Dean would have been here anyway, even when him and Tempe had come by yesterday.

He continued to trek, the hooting of an owl the only thing that broke the dead silence. His eyes worked well in the dark, even without night vision goggles, and his ears pricked to every slight sound. He heard a crunch of dead leaves and stopped, still. Crouching down, he manoeuvred his body in the direction from it had come and waited. He heard it again and this time saw movement. In the distance, through the trees, he could see what looked like a wooden hut, dilapidated and missing half the roof. Outside the hut stood a man, looking to be in his fifties, stocky with a slightly balding head.

Booth waited, years of training and then practise coming into force. He could not let him know he was there. Then he had to see if he was alone. If he was, then it would be easy enough to accost him and take him in. If Matthew was with him then it would be wiser to take the chance of leaving them and bringing reinforcements back with him. But he couldn't let them know that they were being watched.

It took half an hour of cold patience before Matthew emerged from the hut, still in his date clothes that were now crumpled and tatty from a walk through the country side. Obviously Booth had gotten here before him; Matthew had come the long way to avoid being noticed. Booth stood carefully, keeping in the shadows and began to move silently, not even causing a leaf to crunch under his feet. Once he was well out the range for them to hear or catch sight if him, he began to run rapidly toward the house.

Within thirty seconds of being back he had gathered enough officers to accompany him with causing too much notice. Three he knew were accustomed to this sort of thing, having done the same type of work as him previously. They set of at a brisk, quiet pace, back toward the hut.

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Brennan had begun tapping round the greenhouse and had eventually started lifting area of the floor. Three more skeletons had been buried in shallow graves, and she imagined she would find more. What she really wanted was the 'trophies'; the small bones that had been detached from the bodies and probably kept. She had left the team of soco's to wade through the greenhouse and extended her perusal to outside, beginning to probe through flower beds and other areas where she suspected a bag pf bones would be kept.

Briefly, she wondered what Booth was doing, and smiled inwardly at herself for thinking of him while she was so busy. But hadn't she always thought about him, even when she was up to her eyebrows in bones and decaying matter? At some point during each day, even each hour, she had wondered what he was doing, if he was okay. Angela had been right; she had kept on glancing toward the entrance to see if he was there if he hadn't shown up by midday.

She moved over to another bed of soil, obviously fresh and recently raked. She liked being in his arms and having him touch her, in a different way to David, or even Pete. She knew that it wasn't purely physical; it wasn't just for convenience, which many of her relationships had been about previously. It was because it was him, and it meant something to her to be the one he was holding, the one he kissed, the one he'd phone when, well, a body had been discovered. She sighed, running a rather scary looking piece of apparatus through the soil carefully. She knew she was terrible with dealing with people, and that her people skills were far more suited to her dealing with the dead than the living, and that she found it hard to read others like Booth did, but that didn't mean that she didn't have feelings, that she was a robot. Booth seemed to understand that. Now that something had happened between them, even if it was just a kiss, she felt as if a wall inside of her had been broken down and waves of feelings were washing out. She wasn't quite sure how she should deal with it, but surprisingly it didn't scare her, she just felt a little apprehensive, but excited too.

She resumed concentrating on the task in hand, trailing through the soft soil. She began to prod a little deeper, as she would when she was on a dig, and within minutes she had could across something solid. Patiently, she began to shift the soil, eventually reaching a wooden box wrapped in a plastic bag. Grabbing her camera before she removed it, she took a photo of the box in situ, and then took it out of the soil. Opening it, she found what she had been looking for; small bones, mainly metatarsals, phalanges and the tiny bones from inside the ear. Shining a torch at them she estimated roughly how many different bodies they could have come from, getting the figure to around twenty five. Nineteen skeletons had now been found, so there were at least four more to be discovered and the rest of the house to searched.

She sighed, and stood up; wanting to find Seeley and let him know that she had gotten hold of the trophies. She wandered back to the house, spotting another agent or officer by the back door.

"Do you know where Agent Booth is?" She asked, gripping the hold of the box, now back inside of the bag, with latex gloves.

"He's headed off into the woods. They think they've caught the suspects," he informed her.

Brennan took a step back from him and looked toward where he had pointed. She would never have expected Booth to have taken her with him for this. She was here to do her job, and he his. A small part of her wished he'd come to tell her where he was going, but she also realised that had the roles been reversed and she'd needed to hurry to do something her job would have taken precedence. She knew then that if this between them became a relationship, it would not hamper their work, and that they would both understand how it all fitted together. A smile came to her lips until she heard the gun shot.

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Please review. 


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews. Here is the penultimate chapter. Enjoy.**

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Chapter 11

She managed to keep hold of the box and not drop it, the sound of the gun reverberating against the silent night sky. The officer next to her began to run toward where the shot had come from and Brennan found herself following, still holding the box. She ignored the stitch in her side that came too quickly and managed to power herself through the trees to where she could see a group of people beginning to walk in the direction of the house.

Her eyes went automatically to Booth, walking tall in her direction, his hands clasping a man in front of him and a broad smile across his face. "Tempe!" He called out as soon as he saw her.

For a second she felt flustered. She hadn't really thought that he would have been hit, but her heart still wouldn't quit pounding. His use of her first name in front of everyone had also flummoxed her and for a few seconds she wasn't sure what to say, she just stood still.

"I got the trophies!" She called as the group of officers with their two prisoners neared. She held the bag up in her hands. The older man in front of Booth spat on the floor. She figured him to be Dean Lammork.

Booth nodded to her, her smile growing as they got closer to one an other. One of his colleagues took Lammork from him and Brennan found herself stood face to face with Booth, the rest of them continuing the walk back to the house.

"You okay?" Booth asked her. She could see even in the dim light the flames that his eyes held.

She nodded. "Why shouldn't I be?"

"No reason, I just wanted to check," instead of being annoyed by this she felt oddly endeared. Usually Booth's over protectiveness made her feel irrational and that she had something to prove. For the first time, that reaction didn't occur. Instead she half understood that he didn't think she was incapable of looking after herself, just that it was in his instinct to protect people, and she was more than included in that.

She reached up her free hand, the one that wasn't holding the box, and took hold of the shirt that he had been wearing when they had been at his home, a time that now felt like weeks ago, rather than hours. He watched the action, amusement on his face, and his hands came up to her face, cupping it gently. He bent his head to her and kissed her, letting it deepen slightly. At first she half froze. They were outside, anyone who turned round now would see them. Then the fear of it passed and she relaxed into it, the heat of it warming her from the inside. It was brief, but it did enough to colour her cheeks and shorten her breaths.

"You need to go to the hotel, Tempe," he said once the kiss had finished. "It's past midnight and its going to end up being a six o clock start in the morning. The soco's have been told to go and come back tomorrow."

"I don't want to," she said stubbornly, shaking her head. "There too much to do, and if I need to go, then so do you."

"And I will be doing. After I've done a preliminary interview with Burke and Hare over there," he nodded in the direction of the two prisoners.

"Weren't Burke and Hare grave robbers?" She asked, confused at the comparison.

Booth nodded. "Couldn't think of any other pair of male murderers of the top of my head," he explained. "Go and get a room at that motel again, Tempe. I think that's where most of the team will be staying tonight, including Hodgins once he's done collecting his bugs." He handed her his car keys. "I'll get a lift back."

She looked at him, slightly aghast. Not just at him giving her the keys to his precious vehicle, but about what she was going to say next.

"You want me to book a separate room for you?" She asked, a little hesitantly.

"Yeah, if there's any left. Otherwise I'll come and get my keys from you and sleep in the car," he grinned.

"Why don't you share with me?" She looked at him, her eyes seemingly growing bigger. "There's not that many rooms, and if I ask for a twin… Or you could share with Hodgins?" She clarified her offer quickly.

Booth laughed. "I would rather sleep here that share with Hodgins. Especially with what he may bring back with him." She looked at him, wishing she had Angela there to tell her what to say. She didn't want to be without him tonight. Now she had realised that she was feeling something toward him she felt vulnerable and needy, feelings she had never wanted to share with anyone in her life before. She thought he might not like that in her; he was used to only seeing her fiercely independent streak and this side might be a shock.

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He watched her face, dimly light by the slight light of the moon and the false lighting from their crime scene. The capture of Charlesworth and Lammork had not been difficult; they had managed to take them by surprise. The shot that had probably sent Tempe running was one fired to halt Charlesworth's attempt at running. It had worked without even harming a hair on his head, more was the pity.

It had been kind of nice to see Tempe come to him. He would have expected it anyway; it would have been unlike her to have managed to have kept her nose out of a case that she had serious claims over, but he liked to think that she had ran there because of him. And now she was standing there, looking vulnerable, like he had never seen her before. He supposed that given her, it was to be expected. He knew that the epiphany that they had both probably had in less than the past twenty-four hours would leave them a little raw. They had kissed, changing how they would relate forever, and he felt slightly vulnerable. So much now relied on how she wanted to go about things. He was already surprised that she had told Angela they had spent the evening together. He had the extreme urge to just go back with her to the motel, take her back to one of the rooms and just enjoy holding her. Given her icy, hard exterior, even holding her was more of a challenge as seducing your average woman. Of course he wanted to take her to bed, what man wouldn't, especially after months of chemistry between them. He knew that when it happened, and he could actually say when and not if, it would be amazing; but for now he didn't want to rush things. The anticipation would only add to the flavour, and he was a patient man when the end result would be good.

And now she was talking about rooms. Given that she wasn't pushing for one on her own and telling him she'd see him in the morning, plus this exposed look on her face, he could read between the lines and say that she wanted him with her tonight, for all the same reasons he didn't want to spend the night alone either.

"Tempe, book a twin room. If they've only got doubles, get one of them and I'll sleep on the floor. But go, now. Do what you need with that evidence, and go and get some rest," he said in his softest, most irresistible voice.

"There are more bodies to be uncovered," she protested.

"And they'll be officers here all night making sure that they are still here in the morning when they'll be more light and better conditions for retrieving evidence," he pacified. He had worked out how to handle her by now, and this softer Bones was definitely easier to reason with.

She nodded. "It makes sense. I'll leave a message at reception giving you the room number." He nodded. As she was about to walk away, he grabbed her hand and pulled her back to him, kissed her swiftly on the lips and giving her his best grin, let her go, his heart singing that in a couple of hour time he would be back with her, in a room with her instead of next door.

He watched her go as he went to find Agent McCaffrey who would be interviewing with him, knowing that the sooner he could beat what he wanted to know out of the two men he would be back with her, and as dedicated as he was to his job he couldn't help but look forward to seeing her again.

McCaffrey was waiting patiently for him at the front of the house next to large van that Booth assumed contained one of the men they had arrested. He felt the familiar sense of the impending battle smother him, and managed to force thoughts of Tempe out of his mind. He was determined to get the bottom of these murders.

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The only rooms left were all doubles, the twins having already been taken by most of the FBI officers present. Brennan briefly passed Hodgins in the corridor; already chatting to a pretty agent she had seen earlier. He waved almost dismissively, but several seconds later came running up behind her.

"Dr Brennan!" She stooped walking to her room and turned round to face him.

"What is it?" She looked at him impatiently. She had brought the box of bones back with her and was hoping to analyse its contents before Seeley came back.

"Those insects…" his eyes widened at the thought.

"Really?" Brennan looked at him. "What can you actually tell me about the victim from them?"

Hodgins came back to earth. "They were some of the finest specimens I've seen," he said enthusiastically.

"Jack," Brennan began. "Unless you have anything interesting to tell me about the actual case, I will see you in the morning." She felt his steely blue eyes fixed on her as she walked away, and as she turned round he was shrugging his shoulder and muttering to himself. Brennan smiled a little and found her room. Their room.

She entered, noting that it was much larger than either of the rooms they had had the night before last, with a small two-seater sofa crammed in at one end. She put the box down on the vanity table and began to open it, taking care to have spread a white sheet out first that would stop any contamination of the evidence. Thankfully the soco's had been fairly well resourced.

She switched the lamp on, giving herself extra lighting and began to study the small bones, sorting them out into separate rows and writing on post-it's the case number for each of the skeletons they had so far uncovered. She could remember exactly which cases missed which bone, and before an hour was over she had managed to find the missing bones for twelve of the fifteen skeletons they had recovered from Moreton Street. That left thirteen small bones unaccounted for, and three of the Moreton Street skeletons incomplete. She suspected that tomorrow they would be several more lots of bones found at Davey's house.

Brennan opened her laptop and began to input the new data, bagging up each bone as she went and double checking the case number. It was a laborious process as everything needed to be photographed at least twice but she didn't feel the time slip by.

She heard a soft knock at the door and a thrill went through her. Seeley Booth. She stood quickly, surprising herself with her eagerness. She had never been this keen to see a man before.

She opened the door and saw him stood there, two bags in his hands, one she recognised as being hers and the other she took to be his. He smiled at her and her attention automatically deferred to him rather than what he was carrying.

"You going to let me in?" He asked. She moved out of the doorway and he walked through, putting the bags down on the bed. For a few seconds an atmosphere of awkwardness hung in the air and she wondered how to break it. Then he looked almost shyly at her and she found herself stood close to him. Tentatively, she put one hand into his, and found that he gripped onto it tightly, pulling her down to sit on the bed next to him.

"I see you've not been to sleep?" He said, a little accusatory.

She shook her head. "I wanted to at least get a start on tomorrow's work. I've gone through the trophy bones and found that I can put twelve of the bones with bodies we recovered for Moreton Street, which leaves thirteen trophy bones remaining and three of the Moreton Street skeletons incomplete. There's going to be more remains in Davey's place. The soco's found three more bodies this evening, plus the one I came across in the greenhouse trough," she explained, feeling comfortable now she could talk about work.

"We briefly interviewed both Matthew and Dean – it is definitely Dean, by the way, we pulled off photographs from when he was last arrested and compared them with a photo we took tonight and he's certainly not dead – and Matthew, after swearing blind that he'd have nothing to do with it, then broke down and confessed immediately to nine acts of homicide, along with the names. He told us about the box and that he thought there was another one somewhere on the property. He says that Dean and Davey would make him kill girls and then give their bodies over to them, when they would bite part of the skin from the arm off with there teeth - some ritual I don't understand nor wish to -and then get the body to decompose quickly. The girl you found in the trough is Emilia Hunt, from a town called Vindosee about seventy miles south from here. Her mother filed an MP report six month ago and in the meantime I suspect she was working the streets. From the rather burbled response I got from him, they only went for women who would not be missed. Lone travellers, prostitutes, down-and-outers, anyone that wouldn't be reported gone straight away," he concluded with a sad smile.

"Their plan worked, didn't it? No one was missed, and if they were it was never traced back to them. They were clever," Brennan said, with her usual calmness. "At least now we can work on giving these women back their identities."

He smiled at her, his hand moving up to brush hair away from her face with a touch so gentle and soothing she closed her eyes to accentuate the sense. The atmosphere had turned from feeling awkward to being almost violently electrical. A shiver ran up through her spine, causing her to smile. She opened her eyes as she heard him laugh and saw that he was gazing at her, a look in his eyes that she had never really understood before, until now when a few things clicked into place, like the trophy bones making a complete skeleton.

"What's funny?" She asked, unsure of wht he was laughing.

"You," he said, his fingers still playing with her hair. It was a sensation she adored and she could feel her eyelids becoming heavier the more she relaxed.

"Why am I funny, Seeley?" She said, finding it strange that it was so easy to say his first name.

"The way you're so detached, and all it needs is just someone to play with your hair," he murmured. "Then you start to smile and become all soft."

"I am not soft," the statement would have said with more force, but for the fact that she was so content.

"There's nothing wrong with being soft sometimes," he said in that quite, gentle tone that could at this minute persuade her to do anything.

"When are you soft then?" She asked, both eager to know and keen to continue their debate of sorts.

"I am now," she turned her head to look at him, half lay back on the bed, his face untwisted with preoccupation. She lay back to join him, both their legs hanging off the side of bed and their heads almost resting on their bags.

He pulled her close and she felt his lips on hers again, the newly familiar feeling becoming even more enjoyable now that she had analysed it. His hand went to her waist and she found that hers were up at his shoulders, having grazed over his pectorals on their way to getting there. He manoeuvred her so she was on top of him, propping her up with his strong arms. She felt herself pass a certain point where her kissed became more desperate and her hands pressed harder against his skin, and his arms relaxed and she lay flat onto his chest. He responded in turn, but she felt that he was holding back, his hands stayed clamped onto her waist and did not explore like her were doing. She broke the kiss and looked at him, her hair dropping down into his face.

"What's the matter?" She asked, worriedly, moving from on top of him. His hand remained touching her and she found she didn't want to move it.

"I don't want to make love with you tonight," he said. It would have been blunt but for the tone of his voice.

She half understood what he meant. It would be too much in a short space of time.

"I'm going to put myself through agony by not doing, Tempe, but I want to at least have one date with you first," he continued to play with a lose tendril of hair as the room fell so silent she could hear the faint beating of his heart, she was sure. She curled up to him, feeling as frustrated as he was, but slightly relieved also. His arms crept around her and held her tightly, and she felt the warmth of his body seep through to her.

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He had half fallen asleep, the exhaustion of the long day with so many ups and downs finally catching up with him. It had only been a few hours ago that he had been talking with Angela about Tempe and this thing between them. Now she was lying in his arms, her eyes closed in sleep and her features relaxed. He brushed the side of her face with his lips, and slowly disentangled himself from her. It was late, or rather early, and it wouldn't be long before they had to get up.

He had called for one of the younger officers who had still been at the Jeffersonian to bring Brennan's bag that he knew she kept in her office for nights when she sometimes stayed at work. His own bag had come from the car, although as he'd had no keys and hadn't wanted to disturb Tempe for them in case she was asleep, he'd forced open the boot in a way he knew would damage it. Sometimes he scared himself.

He hoped that the water would be warm and headed for the shower, taking off the filthy clothes and praising the stars that he had a clean suit for the interviews he would be doing tomorrow and a change of clothes on top of that. The water was warm against his skin although it lacked power. Still, it did the job and he came our feeling cleaner than he had done before. He dried himself off quickly, hearing Tempe moving about outside. He imagined she was wanting to do the same, wash away the work of the day. A picture of Tempe in the shower entered his mind and he grinned wickedly. Maybe one day soon.

He pulled on shorts and an old t-shirt and opened the door into the bedroom. Tempe was sat on the bed, shower stuff in her arms.

"Do you have a spare t-shirt I could sleep in?" She asked tiredly.

"Isn't there one in your bag?" He asked, curious as to what she kept in it.

She shook her head. "If I stay over at the Jeffersonian I usually just fall asleep in what I'm wearing," she confessed.

He grinned and stripped himself of his shirt, noticing how her eyes checked him out. He enjoyed the sensation of having the anthropologist pay him some attention, and caught her eye, causing her to blush. "Have this!" He said and threw her the shirt. She smiled and stood up.

"I'm going to have a quick shower before I get into bed," she told him, looking half asleep.

"You want me to sleep on the couch?" He asked before she closed the bathroom door.

She popped her head out. "It's up to you, Seeley. You can sleep with me, if you want." Her lack of a direct answer surprised him, but then, many things had surprised him about her today.

He slipped between the sheets and stretched out, enjoying the cool crispness of the bed. He felt his eyes begin to close and sleep throw her soft blanket over him, only to be awakened when Tempe moved in next to him, body still damp from the shower, smelling of a faint musky scent that made him sigh.

He felt her curl up to him, taking one arm and moving it across her. He opened his eyes a little and looked at her, finding her to be returning his gaze. She said nothing, merely shutting her eyes and falling asleep almost immediately, ashe could tell by the way the rhythm of her breathing altered, slowed down, and his own began to mirror it. Tomorrow, he thought, he would ask her on a date.

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_Please review!_

_Last chapter will be up tomorrow (if I get enough reviews...evil laugh!) It's already written and full of fluff. _

_As well as Seeley Booth, I will also accept Danny Messer from CSI:NY in any way, shape or form!_


	12. Epilogue

_**Disclaimer: **All characters belong to Kathy Reichs and Fox TV and Joseph entertainment. Not me. I still have to go to work tomorrow._

_**A/N: **This has the rating the one below M, so there are hints of what's going on, although nothing too extreme. I struggle with ratings. If you don't like fluffy stuff, then don't read on!_

_Thank you for all the reviews throughout this story, and to the people who have put 'Sleeping' on their favourites, and had it on alert._

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**Epilogue**

He had asked her out on a date when he had woken up beside her the following morning, revelling in the soft feel of her skin beside him and the vision of her simply being there. For a short moment he had thought that she might say no, and immediately regret everything that had gone on between them in the past few hours. However, she had smiled at him, moving her hand onto his chest and curling up closer, hence making his heart pound and smile become broad.

"Can I take you out on a date some time?" He'd asked quietly into her ear when he was sure she was fully awakened, although the alarm clock that had gone off had surely been enough to waken the dead.

She'd smiled at him, opening her eyes and he didn't see an ounce of anything that told him that she'd rather be elsewhere. "It depends," she'd said. "On whether you let me choose."

"I think I'd make a better choice," he'd argued back defiantly, enjoying seeing her eyes blaze. He'd had the strongest desire to resume their kisses from the night before, too possess her in some way, but knew that as he wasn't as exhausted as he'd been last night it would be too difficult to save certain things for a little time longer, so he tried to cool his ardour.

"No, Seeley," she'd answered back in her usual manner, although the use of his first name was having a strange effect on him. "You want to take me on a date? Well I get to pick the restaurant!"

"Then it's you taking me on a date," he'd said back.

"Okay, Seeley Booth. Would you like to go on a date with me sometime?" She'd said, smiling infuriatingly.

"Only if I get to choose the restaurant."

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They'd eventually made it on that date three days after the arrest of Lammork and Charlesworth, after Brennan had uncovered nine more bodies and another hand carved box full of the small trophy bones and found wrapped inside a hidden compartment a money bag with a beautifully scripted list of names, some of whom Tempe had already given to several of the bodies found at Moreton Street. It was a useful thing for Dean Lammork to have kept a record of, if a little sinister. It also told Booth a little about the psyche of the killers he was dealing with; they had taken the time to get to know their victims before they had killed them.

They had stayed in Brigiton for one more night, but this time Booth had found his own room, knowing that temptation would have been far too much if he'd spent another night in the same bed as Tempe. He wasn't quite sure how he'd managed to refrain from letting those kisses go any further in the first place. Now they were in a restaurant that they'd actually managed to agree on. A small, cosy Italian that Angela had recommended to them both separately after being taken there by the agent who had interviewed her after her ordeal. His parents happened to run it, and so far Booth had been mightily impressed.

"So what did Angela tell you about this place?" Tempe asked him, her fingers caressing her wine glass in a manner that made him want to forgo the meal and take her back to his place now.

"She said that it was one of the most romantic restaurants she'd been to with fantastic food and that you'd love it," he said, amazed at the deviousness of Angela Montenegro.

"That was pretty much what she'd said to me," Tempe nodded, giving him a smile that told of the thoughts that were going on in her mind.

"Did she know that we couldn't agree on a place?" He asked, giving her a knowing look as he sipped his wine. It was the same one they had had at her house and at his, the taste of it reminding him of her lips.

"I might have said something," Tempe laughed, and he found he really wanted to know what she had said about him.

"So what have you and Angela been talking about then while you've been identifying these bodies?" He asked, a little warily.

"We've been discussing the possibilities of who the remains belong to and running data through the angillator," she said sweetly.

He gave her his most practised flirtatious grin, knowing that it still wouldn't work on her like it had other women. Maybe that was why he felt the way he did about her. "What have you told her about us?" He asked in a low voice, moving a little toward her across the table.

"What makes you think I've told her anything?" She said, her lips staying parted after the question had finished, returning him a look that made his legs quiver.

"Because there is no way that Angela would have let you stay silent on the subject," he retorted, regaining composure.

Tempe laughed. "I tried to not say anything," she said. "But she wouldn't let go of the subject." He smiled at her, having a feeling that Tempe had acted rather out of character and told Angela a few things willingly. That he took as a good sign. She wanted to discuss him.

"So what did you tell her?" He didn't know if it was reassurance he wanted or flattery, or maybe a bit of both.

"I said that as we couldn't decide on who was going to pick the restaurant then we probably wouldn't get to go on a date," she told him, pouring more wine into both of their glasses. The situation was making both of them nervous, and hence they were drinking a little quicker than usual.

"So Angela decided to make sure we would go," he said. "Maybe I should but her a drink the next time we're in Wong Foo's."

"You don't want to know what else she asked me?"

"Only if the answers you gave were good," he replied, the hand that wasn't holding his glass slipping across the table and taking hold of hers. It still surprised him when she didn't move away. This time she didn't even drop her gaze from his.

Tempe laughed. "If I told you, Seeley, you would become even more conceited than you are now."

"That means you said good things," he smirked. She rolled her eyes, but her fingers stayed wrapped in his.

It felt good, being with her in the dimly lit restaurant with the complicated wall paper. It certainly wasn't the most modern of places, but it carried a traditional feel and rustic charm of its own and so far the food – the starters anyway – had been superb. Angela had been right; it was a perfect setting for a first date.

This didn't feel like a first date though, there wasn't the uncomfortable silences or the searching around for things in common. It was more like their first anniversary than their first date. He regarded her with observant eyes, taking in the slight flush on her cheeks from the wine and the loose tendril of hair that had fluttered down. He had met her at Wong Foo's, inevitably. Thankfully, the bar had been quiet with only him and a group of business men there, so no strange looks had been given when she had entered, enough minutes late for him to wonder if she had changed her mind.

He had automatically stood when she entered, almost knocking over his drink in the process. He had stood partly out of manners but mainly because of the shock he had received when he had seen her. She wore a simple black dress, low cut at the neckline, with three quarter length sleeves. The dress clung to her like he'd never seen before and he imagined that it had been Angela who had persuaded her to buy it, and probably have the guts to wear it. Her hair had been tied loosely on the top of her head, a few locks having been allowed to fall down. He knew that she'd made an effort and he found himself grinning inanely when she finally came over to him.

"What's wrong?" She said, her hand going to her hair as soon as she had sat down on her usual stool.

"Nothing," he'd managed to speak.

"Why are you staring at me?" She'd looked worried.

"Cause you look so goddamn beautiful," he'd whispered, bringing colour to her cheeks.

"You could have just said I looked nice instead of staring," she'd berated him. He pursed his lips in a smile.

"I was speechless," he'd replied as Sid passed her a drink.

Her death look had relaxed. "You look good yourself," she had said, paying more attention to her drink than him. His hand had gone up to touch the side of her face and then froze wondering if she wouldn't be happy with that, but she hadn't moved away or said anything to stop him, so he'd carried on, turning her chin so she'd be facing him and then leaning over to touch his lips with hers.

And so the night had progressed. She sat facing him in the restaurant, animatedly talking about some bones that had been recovered that she might get to examine while there was no big case going on. He hardly took in what she said, he was too mesmerised by her, and still slightly unbelieving that she was there with him.

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Brennan watched Booth closely, attempting to read him but struggling. They had finished dessert and were awaiting coffees, or in her case hot chocolate, and Booth was talking in detail about something she did not understand, and knew, if she asked him about it, he would laugh at her.

"Booth," she interrupted mid sentence. "I don't know what means."

He had smiled, amused at her and proceeded to explain who the two film stars were who had been investigated by the FBI. She was only a little the wiser, but chose not to say anything more and just watch him, taking in his strong features and brown eyes and broad shoulders.

"Seeley," she interrupted again.

"Temperance," he said, eyeing her for the break in his spiel.

"Let's hurry up and finish the coffee."

"You want me to take you home…" he sounded concerned. Maybe he was thinking that she wanted the date to end.

She nodded her head. "Yes, if you'll stay with me." The look on his face changed to one of relief, and his eyes lighted with the fire that made her own desire burn.

She had never seen anyone drink a cup of coffee so fast.

--------------------------------

They had taken a cab back to her place and her hand shook slightly when she unlocked the door, hoping Booth didn't notice. His arm was around he waist and she was feeling a little flustered from the taxi journey back, having spent it with her hands tucked up his shirt and lips locked with his, behaving like two teenagers. She hadn't done that before and had surprised him when she'd told him so.

"I thought everyone had done this at some time," he said, a kiss punctuating each word.

"Not me," she answered.

"Why? There must have been enough guys wanting to."

"I don't know, I never really noticed," she felt the fires burning again and wondered if Booth could stop them from being charged with any acts of indecency. Luckily, the journey had ended and they privacy of her home awaited them.

The key eventually turned and they entered. As soon as the door had closed behind them Booth's mouth was on hers, his hands exploring more freely now they were free from prying eyes. His touch was both tender and needy. It had only been a few nights ago since they had first kissed back in his kitchen, but it had almost been too long. Months of working together closely with the chemistry and banter between them made this feel like it should have happened yesterday. She undid the buttons of his shirt, running hands over his bare torso, unable to think of anything but needing to be closer to the man stood with his back against the wall. For thirty seconds he let her be in control, undoing, untying, undressing. Then it was his turn, and gentle force moved her the three steps backwards to the other side of the entrance hall. She fought for dominance, her lips pressing harder against his, almost biting, and fingers digging into his skin. She felt her hair come loose and his hand press between her and the wall, hunting for the zip that would loosen the dress. The dress Angela had almost bought for her. They had gone shopping, taking a rare hour off from identifying the skeletons and hunting for the perfect outfit for her date with Booth. Angela had found the dress in a boutique that sold one-offs and picked it up straight away, persuading Brennan to try it on. At first she had declined, the low cut neckline came right down between her breasts, and the embarrassing events that could occur came to mind.

"There is a special kind of tape available that can stop you falling out, so don't worry, sweetie," Angela had pacified. Tempe had looked puzzled at the thought of a tape that you might stick to your body, and Angela had just shook her head as one might do at a small child who just couldn't understand.

"You just go and try it on and I'll see if the sales girl had got any here," she pushed Tempe into a small changing room and left her to it, returning five minutes later and passing a strip of clear tape and issuing instructions on how to use it. Tempe followed them and quickly realised its positive points. She weighed herself up in the mirror and frowned.

"I can't believe I'm making so much effort just for Seeley Booth," she uttered, just loud enough for Angela to hear.

"Sweetie, it isn't 'just' Seeley Booth, it's the man you're probably in love with," Angela replied as Tempe came out of the changing room. "You look amazing," she said in a calm voice. "You're going to knock Booth's socks off."

"How could a dress knock someone's socks off?" Tempe looked puzzled.

Angela pulled a face that Tempe recognised as being the one that said she hadn't understood something very simple. "I mean that he is going to be stunned by how you look."

Tempe's face brightened involuntarily and Angela noticed, there wasn't much she missed when it came to relationships. "I doubt the dress will stay on for very long once you get yourselves back to either his place or yours though," Angela said, expecting a denial from the scientist. None came, just a wicked grin.

And now the dress was on the floor, along with the tape. Shoes had been discarded, and any other items of clothing were well on their way to the same fate.

"Here?" She heard him mutter, his voice deep and edgy with desire. She nodded her answer, incapable of speech and felt his arms lift her, holding her up against the wall, the coolness of the plaster emphasizing the heat that raged inside her. His every touch set her ablaze once more, making her feel more alive than she'd ever done. His kisses were almost rough, trailing from her lips, down her neck and across her chest. He seemed hungry, ravenous even.

"Wanted this for so long," he muttered as she wrapped her legs around him, her weight completely supported by his strength.

"So have I," she whispered back as his eyes looked into hers. Something there told her that this wasn't just for tonight, but for as long as she wanted it. That knowledge relaxed herself further and she finally let herself go.

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Booth pulled Tempe closer to him as they lay on her sofa, a blanket over them and two glasses of wine on the table. He nuzzled her neck, making her laugh softly and thought what a wonderful sound it was. They were still naked underneath the blanket. The sofa had been the first place they'd headed for once their antics in the hallway had finished, neither having the energy to make their way upstairs to Tempe's bed just yet. He felt her legs twist round his, and the feel of her breasts against his chest. It was enough to stir his loins and he saw a smile begin on her lips as she realised the effect she was having on him.

"You have a good recovery rate," she said, whispering it into his ear. He gave her his lopsided grin.

"You going to complain, Bones?" He teased.

She said nothing, just lent in closer to him and gave a slow kiss on his lips, leaving him with the taste of their wine. His hands started to move again, recovering ground that hadn't, in his opinion, been given enough attention when they had been in the hall. He smiled knowing that every time he entered Tempe's place now he would automatically be reminded of the first time they'd made love. The memory of it already imprinted on to his mind.

He hadn't actually pictured it being that way, he'd wanted slow love making, wanting to make her ache with frustration, before being the one to release it. It hadn't happened like that. By the time they had gotten back to her place he had had such a need for her it was impossible to even consider slowing it down, especially as she had reciprocated his every move, keeping up with him like he imagined she would. Ultimately she was his equal, a fact that turned him on as much as the feel of her skin under his fingertips and the curves of her waist and breasts. He heard a small noise emit from her mouth as his touches became teasing. "How many rooms in one night do you think we'll manage?" He muttered into her ear before trailing his lips down the side of her neck.

"Whatever we don't manage tonight, we can save for tomorrow," she returned, her hands doing her own exploring. Her answer filled his chest with something heavy and wonderful as he thought of how many tomorrows they would have.

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She woke before him, aware that there was a body in her bed before she realised that it was him. He lay on his side, facing her; his lips slightly parted and his hair mussed with sleep. Stubble that was usually non existent was visible and she couldn't resist but touch it with a gentle finger. It was nice, waking up with him. More than nice. It felt right, not at all scary or strange as it had done when she had woken up with other men, including her ex husband.

One arm flayed over her, the other rested under her neck from how they had fallen asleep. By two in the morning they had managed to drag themselves up to bed, leaving fallen clothes where they had landed. The move seemed to rejuvenate Seeley and they had made love one last time, slowly and softly when every square centimetre had felt like it was purposely made to be touched by him. Then she had fallen asleep in his arms, his lips still pressed against her neck and his warm breath exhaling through her air. She'd felt safe, loved and incredibly satisfied.

She watched him sleeping for a minute or so, and then tucked her head under his chin and closed her eyes, wanting a final few moments of this previously unobtainable bliss before the call of the office drew her and him away, but not for long. Seeley Booth was one thing that wouldn't be being walled off.

* * *

_I hope you enjoyed it and your fluff bunnies have been satisfied! It's been a fun story to write. Thank you for all your reviews, most of them have been very encouraging. I'm starting off a new BxB story called 'Two Bodies in Denial' if you want another fic to read - although there are tons of good fics on this site._

_So, for the last time for this story, please REVIEW! (One word reviews and anonymous reviews are loved and cherished also!) I would like to know what you think!_


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